FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Section 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2013  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/goldballaOOphil 


^ 


^i  OF  PfiWcs 

GOLDEN  S^|^-a^34'^^ 

AND  ^^ *-    ^       — *^^ 


BALLADS 


THE    CHILD  EE^\ 


SELECTED   BY   THE   AUTHOR    OF 

'ANNIE'S  GOLD  CROSS,"  Etc.,  Etc. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRESBYTERIAN  PUBLICATION  COMMITTEE, 

1334  CHESTNUT   STREET. 

NEW   YORK:   A.   D.   F.  RANDOLPH  &  CO.,   770  BRO.\DWAY. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

WM.  L.  IIILDEBURN,  Treasurer, 

171  trust  for  the 

PRESBYTERIAN  PUBLICATION  COMMITTEE, 

In  tlie  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the   Eastern  District 
of  Pennsylvania. 


Westcott  &  Thomson, 
Stereotypers,  Pliilada. 


INTRODUCTIOIS'. 


Many  children  and  many  motliers  will  thank  the 
lover  of  poetry  whose  taste,  enthusiasm  and  labor 
have  been  devoted  to  the  preparation  of  this  little 
volume.  In  it  will  be  found  the  cream  of  many  good 
books  compiled  for  the  young,  together  with  other 
pieces  not  in  those  volumes.  Few  gifts  will  afford 
more  delight  or  prove  more  useful  to  our  dear  little 
boys  and  girls  than  our  GOLDEN  SONGS  AND 
BALLADS.  May  they  carry  joy  and  love  into  many 
hearts  and  enliven  many  homes  ! 

J.  W.  D. 


Golden  Songs. 


o>^o 


LITTLE  PEOPLE. 


A  DREARY  place  would  be  this  earth 
Were  there  no  little  people  in  it ; 

The  song  of  life  would  lose  its  mirth 
Were  there  no  children  to  begin  it ! — 

No  little  forms  like  buds  to  grow, 

And  make  admiring  hearts  surrender ; 

No  little  hands  on  breast  and  brow 

To  keep  the  thrilling  love-chords  tender ; 

No  babe  within  our  arms  to  leap  ; 

No  little  feet  toward  slumber  tending; 
No  little  knee  in  prayer  to  bend, 

Our  lips  the  sweet  words  lending. 
1  *  5 


6  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

What  would  the  mothers  do  for  work 
Were  there  no  pants  or  jackets  tearing  ? 

Xo  tiny  dresses  to  embroider  ? 

No  cradle  for  their  watchful  caring  ? 

No  rosy  boys,  on  wintry  morn, 

With  satchel  to  the  school-house  hasting? 
'  No  merry  shouts  as  home  they  rush, 
No  precious  morsel  for  their  tasting  ? 

The  sterner  souls  would  grow  more  stern, 
Unfeeling  natures  more  inhuman; 

And  man  to  stoic  coldness  turn, 

And  woman  would  be  less  a  woman. 

For  in  that  clime  toward  which  we  reach 
Through  Time's  mysterious  dim  unfolding, 

The  little  ones  with  cherub  smile 

Are  still  our  Father's  face  beholding. 

So  said  His  voice  in  whom  we  trust. 
When  in  Judea's  realms  a  preacher; 

He  made  a  child  confront  the  proud. 
And  be,  in  simple  guise,  their  teacher. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS. 


Life's  song  indeed  would  lose  its  charm 
Were  there  no  babies  to  begin  it ; 

A  doleful  place  this  world  would  be 
Were  there  no  little  people  in  it ! 


THE  PATTER  OF  LITTLE  FEET. 

Up  with  the  sun  in  the  morning, 

Away  to  the  garden  he  hies, 
To  see  if  the  sleepy  blossoms 

Have  begun  to  open  their  eyes. 
Running  a  race  with  the  wind, 

With  a  step  as  light  and  fleet, 
Under  my  window  I  hear 

The  patter  of  little  feet. 

Now  to  the  brook  he  wanders 
In  swift  and  noiseless  flight, 

Splashing  the  sparkling  ripples 
Like  a  fairy  water-sprite. 

No  sand  under  fabled  river 

Has  gleams  like  his  golden  hair ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS. 

No  pearly  shell  is  fairer 

Than  his  slender  ankles  bare; 

Nor  the  rosiest  stem  of  coral 
That  blushes  in  ocean's  bed, 

Is  sweet  as  the  flush  that  follows 
Our  darling's  airy  tread. 

From  a  broad  window  my  neighbor 

Looks  down  on  our  little  cot, 
And  watches  the  poor  man's  blessing  : 

I  cannot  envy  his  lot. 
He  has  pictures,  books  and  music, 

Bright  fountains  and  noble  trees  ; 
Flowers  that  blossom  in  vases, 

Birds  from  beyond  the  seas ; 
But  never  does  childish  laughter 

His  homeward  footsteps  greet, 
His  stately  halls  ne'er  echo 

To  the  tread  of  innocent  feet. 
This  child  is  our  ^^  speaking  picture  !" 

A  birdling  that  chatters  and  sings ; 
Sometimes  a  sleeping  cherub — 

(Our  other  one  has  wings !) 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  li 

His  heart  is  a  charmed  casket, 

Full  of  all  that's  cunning  and  sweet, 

And  no  harpstrings  hold  such  music 
As  follows  his  twinkling  feet. 

When  the  glory  of  sunset  opens 

The  highway  by  angels  trod. 
And  seems  to  unbar  the  city 

Whose  builder  and  maker  is  God, 
Close  to  the  crystal  portal, 

I  see  by  the  gates  of  pearl 
The  eyes  of  our  other  angel, 

A  twin-born  little  girl, 

And  I  ask  to  be  taught  and  directed 

To  guide  his  footsteps  aright, 
So  that  I  be  accounted  ^vorthy 

To  walk  in  sandals  of  light. 
And  hear,  amid  songs  of  welcome 

From  messengers  trusty  and  fleet. 
On  the  starry  floor  of  heaven 

The  patter  of  little  feet ! 


10  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 


GOD  SEES  ME. 

Through  all  the  busy  daylight,  through  all 

the  quiet  uight, 
AVhether  the  stars  are  in  the  sky,  or  the  sun 

is  shining:  brio;ht ! 
In  the  nursery,  in  the  parlor,  in  the  street, 

or  on  the  stair. 
Though  I  may  seem  to  be  alone,  yet  God  is 

always  there. 
Whatever  I  may  do,  wherever  I  may  be, 
Although  I  see  him  not,  yet  God  sees  me. 

He  knows  each  word  I  mean  to  say  before 
the  word  is  spoken, 

He  knows  the  thoughts  within  my  heart, 
although  I  give  no  token ; 

When  I  am  naughty,  then  I  grieve  my  hea- 
venly Father's  love, 

And  every  time  I  really  try  he  helps  me 
from  above. 

Whatever  I  may  do,  wherever  I  may  be, 

Although  I  see  him  not,  yet  God  sees  me. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  11 

I  have  kind  and  tender  parents,  I  have  many 

loving  friends, 
But  none  love  me  as  God  loves  me ;  all  that 

is  good  he  sends. 
I  will  walk  as  God  shall  lead  me,  when  the 

sun  is  in  the  sky, 
And  lay  me  down  and  sleep  in  peace  beneath 

his  watchful  eye. 
Whatever  I  may  do,  wherever  I  may  be, 
Although  I  see  him  not,  yet  God  sees  me. 

Hymns  for  Young  Children. 


TREASURE  ON    EARTH  AND  TREASURE   IN    HEAVEN. 

Ben  Adam  had  a  golden  coin  one  day, 
Which  he  put  at  interest  with  a  Jew : 

Year  after  year,  awaiting  him  it  lay 
Until  the  doubled  coin  two  pieces  grew. 

And  these  two,  four !  so  on,  till  people  said, 

"How  rich  Ben  Adam  is  !'^  and  bowed  the 
servile  head. 


12  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Ben  Selim  had  a  golden  coin  that  day, 

Which  to  a  stranger  asking  alms  he  gave, 
Who  went  rejoicing  on  his  unknown  way. 

Ben  Selim  died,  too  poor  to  own  a  grave  ; 
But  when  his  soul   reached   heaven,  angels 

with  pride 
Showed  him  the  wealth  to  which  his  coin 
had  multiplied. 


"PADDLE  YOUR  OWN  CANOE." 

Up  this  world  and  down  this  world, 
And  over  this  world  and  through, 

Though  drifted  about  and  tossed  without, 
Still  ^^ paddle  your  own  canoe!" 

What  if  breakers  rise  up  ahead. 

With  dark  waves  rushing  through  ? 

^love  steadily  by,  with  a  steadfast  eye, 
And  "  paddle  your  own  canoe  V' 

Never  give  up  when  trials  come ; 
Never  grow  sad  and  blue ; 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  13 

Never  sit  clown  with  a  tear  and  a  frown, 
But  ^^  paddle  your  own  canoe  I'' 

Up  this  world  and  down  this  world, 
And  over  this  world  and  through, 

Though  weary  and  worn,  bereft  and  forlorn. 
Still  ^^ paddle  your  own  canoe!'' 

Annie  E.  Hone. 


LITTLE    DICK    SNAPPY. 

Little  Dick  Snappy  was  always  unhappy. 
Because  he  did  nothing  but  fret. 

And  w^hen  he  once  cried  'twas  in  vain  that 
you  tried 
To  make  him  his  troubles  forget. 

His  mother  once  brought  him  a  drum,  that 
she  bought  him 
Hard  by  at  a  neighboring  fair, 
And    gave   such    another    to    Edward    his 
brother. 
And  left  them  their  j^leasures  to  share. 

2 


14  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Little  Edward  began,  like  a  nice  little  man, 
To  play  with  his  pretty  new  drum, 

But  Dick,  with  a  pout,  only  turned  his  about 
In  his  hands,  and  looked  sulky  and  grum. 

^^  What's  the  matter,  dear  Dick?  you  look 
sad  :  are  you  sick  ? 

Come !  march  like  a  soldier  wnth  me. 
The  enemy  comes,  let  us  beat  on  our  drums, 

And  mamma  w^ill  our  merriment  see.'^ 


"No,   I   don't    like    my  toy,"   said    the    ill- 
humored  boy, 
"  And  yours  is  the  best  and  most  new; 
If  you'll  give  me  yours,  then  I'll  go  out  of 
doors. 
But  if  not,  then  I'll  kick  mine  in  two." 

"  Oh  no,  brother,  no  !     Pray  do  not  say  so. 

For  a  trifle  in  anger  and  haste; 
Though   they're  equally  new,  yet  my  drum 
I'd  giv^e  you, 

But  I've  tied  it  in  knots  round  my  waist." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  15 

Then  quarrelsome  Dick  gave  his  brother  a 
kick, 
But  he  did  not  give  him  another; 
For.  saying  no  more,  Edward  walked  to  the 
door. 
Only  giving  one  look  at  his  brother. 

Then,  bursting  with  spite,  with  his  utmost  of 

might 

Master  Dick  trod  his  drum  on  the  floor ; 

The  parchment  did  crack  ;  when  lo  !  Edward 

came  back, 

And  his  drum  in  his  hands  then  he  bore. 

^^  The  string  is  untied,  dearest  brother/^  he 
cried ; 
"  So  now  I  with  pleasure  will  change ;" 
But  when  Dick^s  drum  he  found  lying  broke 
on  the  ground, 
Oh  how  did  his  countenance  change ! 

'^I  am  really  ashamed''  (Dick  sobbing  ex- 
claimed) 
"  At  the  difference  between  you  and  me ; 


16  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

But  continue  my  friend  and  I'll  try  to  amend, 
And  a  good-tempered  fellow  to  be.'^ 


FORGIVING. 

"  And  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  them  that 
trespass  against  us." 

When  thou  art  kneeling  down  at  night 
Beside  thy  mother's  knee  to  pray, 

And  thinking  over  all  thy  sins 
Done  through  the  busy  day, 

Then  call  to  mind  thy  brother's  wrong, 
To  strife  by  angry  passions  driven, 

And  in  thy  heart  forgive  him  all. 
As  thou  wouldst  be  forgiven. 

Go,  throw  thy  little  arms  around 
His  neck,  and  kiss  him  tenderly. 

Nor  turn  away  with  pouting  lip 
And  sullen,  tearful  eve. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  17 

Thou  hast  sinned  more  against  thy  God 

Than  ever  brother  did  to  thee ; 
If  he  should  turn  away  his  face, 

How  wretched  wouldst  thou  be ! 

Dost  thou  remember,  when  thy  Lord 
Hung  on  his  cruel  cross  so  long, 

How^  in  his  agony  he  prayed 
For  those  who  did  him  wrong? 

They  nailed  his  hands,  they  pierced  his  feet. 
Their  angry  hearts  no  pity  knew ; 

"  Father,  forgive  them/^  was  his  cry, 
^^They  know  not  what  they  do/' 

Go  seek  thy  little  brother's  side, 
And  press  to  his  thy  rosy  cheek, 

And  whisper  the  forgiveness  free 
He  is  too  proud  to  seek. 

Then,  as  the  brightest  ray  from  heaven 
Doth  on  the  glittering  dewdrop  fall. 

Thy  penitence  shall  be  received. 
And  God  forgive  thee  all. 

Mrs.  C.  F.  Alexander. 

2  * 


18  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


ANNA'S  GOOD  RESOLUTIONS. 

Well^  now  1^11  sit  down  and  I'll  work  very 

fast, 
And  try  if  I  can't  be  a  good  girl  at  last ; 
^Tis  better  than  being  so  sulky  and  haughty; 
I'm  really  tired  of  being  so  naughty. 

For,  as  dear  mamma  says,  when  my  work  is 

all  done, 
There  is  plenty  of  time  left  to  play  and  to 

run ; 
But  when  it  is   work-time,   I  ought  to  sit 

still ; 
I  know  that  I  ought,  and  I  certainly  will. 

Eut  for  fear,  after  all,  I  should  get  at  my 

play ; 

I  will  put  little  doll  in  the  closet  away, 
And  I'll  not  look  to  see  what  the  kitten  is 

doing, 
Nor  think  of  a  single  thing,  only  my  sewing. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  19 

I'm  sorry  I've  idled  so  often  before, 

But  I  hope  I  shall  never  do  so  any  more ; 

Mamma  will  be  pleased  when  she  sees  how 
I  mend — 

When  I've  done  this  long  seam  from  begin- 
ning to  end. 

Miss  Jane  Taylor. 


POPPING    CORN. 

OxE  autumn  night,  when  the  wind  was  high 
And  the  rain  fell  in  many  flashes, 

A  little  boy  sat  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
A-popping  corn  in  the  ashes ; 

And  his  sister,  a  curly-haired  child  of  three. 

Sat  looking  on,  just  close  to  his  knee. 

Pop !  pop !  and  the  kernels  one  by  one 

Came  out  of  the  embers  flying ; 
The  boy  held  a  long  pine  stick  in  hand. 

And  kept  it  busily  plying ; 
He  stirred  the  corn,  and  it  snapped  the  more. 
And  faster  jumped  to  the  clean-swept  floor. 


20  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Part  of  the  kernels  flew  one  way, 
And  a  part  hopped  out  the  otlier ; 

Some  flew  plump  into  the  sister's  lap, 
Some  under  the  stool  of  the  brother ; 

The  little  girl  gathered  them  into  a  heap, 

And  called  them  a  flock  of  milk-white  sheep. 


MORNING    HYMN. 

The  morning  bright,  with  rosy  light, 
Has  waked  me  from  my  sleep ; 

Father,  I  own  thy  love  alone 
Thy  little  one  doth  keep. 

All  through  the  day,  I  humbly  pray, 
Be  thou  my  Guard  and  Guide ; 

My  sins  forgive  and  let  me  live. 
Dear  Saviour,  near  thy  side. 

Oh  make  thy  rest  within  my  breast, 

Great  Spirit  of  all  grace; 
Make  me  like  thee — then  1  shall  be 

Prepared  to  see  thy  face. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  21 


EVENING    PRAYER. 


Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep — 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep ; 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take ; 
And  this  I  ask  for  Jesus'  sake. 


LITTLE   MARY. 

Before  the  bright  sun  rises  over  the  hill, 
In  the  corn-fields  poor  Mary  is  seen, 

Impatient  her  little  blue  apron  to  fill 

With  the  few  scattered  ears  she  can  glean. 

She  never  looks  off  nor  goes  out  of  her  place, 

To  play  nor  to  idle  nor  chat, 
Except  now  and  then  just  to  wipe  her  warm 
face 

And  fan  herself  with  her  straw  hat. 

^'  Why  don't  you  leave  off,  as  others  have  done, 
And  sit  with  them  under  the  tree  ? 


22  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

I  fear  you  will  faint  in  the  beams  of  the  sun ; 
How  weary  and  hot  you  must  be  !'^ 

^^  Oh  no,  my  dear  mother  lies  ill  in  her  bed, 

Too  feeble  to  spin  or  to  knit ; 
My  poor  little  brothers  are  crying  for  bread, 

And  yet  we  can't  give  them  a  bit. 

'^  Then  could  I  be  idle,  or  merry,  or  play 
While  they  are  so  hungry  and  ill  ? 

Ah  no !  I  had  rather  work  hard  all  the  day 
My  little  blue  apron  to  fill." 


ON  THE  LORD'S  SIDE. 

GoD's  trumpet  wakes  the  slumbering  world ; 

Now  each  man  to  his  post; 
The  red-cross  banner  is  unfurled — 

AVlio  joins  the  glorious  host? 

He  who  in  fealty  to  the  truth, 

And  counting  all  tlie  cost. 
Doth  consecrate  his  generous  youth — 

He  joins  the  noble  host. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  23 

He  who,  no  anger  on  his  tongue 

Nor  any  idle  boast, 
Bears  steadfast  witness  against  wrong — 

He  joins  the  sacred  host. 

He  who,  vrith  calm,  undaunted  wdll, 

Xe'er  counts  the  battle  lost ; 
But,  though  defeated,  battles  still — 

He  joins  the  faithful  host. 

He  who  is  ready  for  the  cross, 

The  cause  despised  loves  most. 
And  shuns  not  pain,  or  shame,  or  loss — 

He  joins  the  martyr  host. 


ROBIN    REDBREAST. 

Come  here,  little  Robin,  and  don^t  be  afraid ; 

I  would  not  hurt  even  a  feather; 
Come  here,  little  Robin,  and  pick  up  some 
bread 

To  feed  you  this  very  cold  weather. 


24  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

Come !  come !   I  won't  hurt  you,  you  poor 
little  thing ! 
And  pussy-cat  is  not  behind  me ; 
So  hop  about  pretty  and  put  down  your  wing, 
And  pick  up  the  crumbs  and  don't  mind 
me. 

Cold  winter  is  come,  but  it  will  not  last  long, 
And  summer  we  soon  shall  be  greeting, 

So  remember,  dear  Kobin,  to  sing  me  a  song 
In  return  for  the  breakfast  you're  eating. 


/ 

WONDERFUL  NIGHT! 

CHRISTMAS. 

Wonderful  night! 
Angels  and  shining  immortals 
Thronging  thine  ebony  portals 
Fling  out  their  banners  of  light- 
Wonderful  ni2:ht! 


GOLDEN   S0XG3.  25 

\Yonderful  night ! 
Dreamed  of  by  prophets  and  sages ; 
Manhood,  redeemed  for  all  ages. 
Welcomes  thy  hallowing  might, 

Wonderful  night ! 

Wonderful  night ! 
Down  o'er  the  stars  to  restore  us, 
Leading  his  flame-winged  chorus, 
Comes  the  Eternal  to  sight — 

Wonderful  night ! 

Wonderful  night ! 
Sweet  be  thy  rest  to  the  weary, 
Making  the  dull  heart  and  dreary 
Laugh  in  a  dream  of  delight — 

Wonderful  night ! 

Wonderful  night ! 
Let  me  as  long  as  life  lingers 
Sing  with  the  cherubim  singers, 
Glory  to  God  in  the  height ;'' 

Wonderful  night  I 

3 


26  GOLDEN    SONGS. 


THE   BOY   AND   THE    FLOWERS. 

WiLiJE,  with  a  spirit  light,  was  a  happy 

little  child, 
Playing  near  a  fountain  bright,  playing  with 

the  flowers  wild ; 
"Where  they  grew  he  lightly  stepped,  cautious 

not  a  leaf  to  crush, 
Then  about  the  fountain  leaped,  shouting  at 

its  merry  gush. 

AVhile  the  shining  waters  welled,  laughing  as 

they  bubbled  up, 
In  his  little  hand  he  held,  closely  clasped,  his 

silver  cup ; 
Now  he  dipped  it  in  to  fill,  now  he  bore  it  to 

the  flowers. 
Through  his  fingers  let  it  spill,  all  it  held,  in 

mimic  showers. 

"  Open,  pretty  buds,''  said  he — "  open  to  the 

air  and  sun ; 
So  to-morrow  I  may  see  what  my  little  rain 

has  done ; 


GOLDEN  SONGS.  27 

Yes  you  will^  you  will  I  know,  for  the  drink 

I  give  you  now, 
Burst  your  little  cups  and  blow  while  I'm 

gone  and  can^t  tell  how. 


*^  I  just  wish  that  I  could  see  how  God's  finger 
touches  you, 

When  your  sides  unclasp,  and  free  let  the 
spice  and  petals  through ; 

I  would  watch  you  all  the  night,  nor  in  dark- 
ness be  afraid, 

Only  once  to  see  aright  how  a  pretty  flower 
is  made. 


^^  Now  remember,  I  shall  come  in  the  morn- 
ing from  my  bed. 

Here  to  find  among  you  some  with  their 
brightest  colors  spread.'^ 

To  his  buds  he  hastened  out,  at  the  dewy 
morning  hour. 

Crying  with  a  joyful  shout,  ^^God  has  made 
each  bud  a  flower.'^ 


28  GOLDEX    SONGS. 

Precious  must  the  ready  faith  of  the  little 
children  be 

In  the  sight  of  Him  who  sairh,  '*  Suffer  them 
to  come  to  me/"' 

Answered  by  the  smile  of  heaven  is  the  in- 
fant's offerinir  found, 

Though  a  cup  of  vrater  given  only  to  the 
thirstv  crround. 


fv'Y    MOTHER. 

AVho  fed  me  from  her  gentle  breast, 
And  hushed  me  in  her  arms  to  rest, 
And  on  my  cheek  sweet  kisses  prest  ? 

My  rnuther  I 

'When  sleep  forsook  my  open  eye, 
"Who  was  it  sunor  sweet  hushaby, 
And  revoked  me  that  I  should  not  cry? 

^ly  mother  ! 

Who  sat  and  watched  my  infant  head 
When  sleeping  on  my  cradle  bed, 
And  tears  of  sweet  affection  shed? 

^Iv  mother ! 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  29 

When  pain  and  sickness  made  me  crj^, 
Who  gazed  upon  my  heavy  eye, 
And  wept  for  fear  that  I  should  die? 

My  mother ! 

Who  dressed  my  doll  in  clothes  so  gay, 
And  taught  me  pretty  how  to  play, 
And  minded  all  I  had  to  say  ? 

My  mother ! 

Who  ran  to  help  me  when  I  fell. 
And  would  some  pretty  story  tell. 
Or  kiss  the  place  to  make  it  well  ? 

My  mother ! 

Who  taught  my  infant  lips  to  pray, 
And  love  God's  holy  book  and  day. 
And  walk  in  wisdom's  pleasant  way  ? 

My  mother ! 

And  can  I  ever  cease  to  be 
Affectionate  and  kind  to  thee, 
Who  was  so  very  kind  to  me, 

My  mother? 

3* 


30  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

Ah  no !  the  thought  I  cannot  bear ; 
And  if  God  please  my  life  to  spare, 
I  hope  I  shall  reward  thy  care, 

My  mother ! 

When  thou  art  feeble,  old  and  gray 
My  healthy  arm  shall  be  thy  stay, 
And  I  will  soothe  thy  pains  a^yay, 

My  mother  I 

And  when  I  see  thee  hang  thy  head, 
^Twill  be  my  turn  to  watch  thy  bed, 
And  tears  of  sweet  affection  shed, 

My  mother ! 

For  God,  who  lives  above  tlie  skies, 
Would  look  with  vengeance  in  his  eyes 
If  I  should  ever  dare  despise 

My  mother ! 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  31 

THE    COMMANDMENTS. 

This  is  the  just  and  great  command  : 

To  love  thy  God  above ; 
And  this  the  second  :  As  thyself 

Thy  neighbor  thou  shalt  love. 

Who  is  thy  neighbor  ?     He  who  wants 
The  help  which  thou  canst  give ; 

And  both  the  law  and  prophets  say, 
^^This  do,  and  thou  shalt  live.^' 

ROSCOE. 


THE    CHILDREN'S    HYMN. 

Sing  to  the  Lord  the  children's  hymn ; 

His  gentle  love  declare, 
Who  bends  amid  the  cherubim 

To  hear  the  children's  prayer. 

He  at  a  mother's  breast  was  fed, 
Though  God's  own  Son  was  he ; 

He  learned  the  first  small  words  he  said, 
Meek,  at  his  mother's  knee. 


32  GOLDEX   SOXGS. 

He  held  us  to  his  mighty  breast, 
The  children  of  the  earth  ; 

He  lifted  up  his  hands  and  blessed 
The  babes  of  human  birth. 

Although  he  is  the  Son  of  God^ 
Our  gracious  Saviour  too, 

The  scenes  we  tread  his  footsteps  trod, 
The  paths  of  youth  he  knew. 

And  from  the  stars  his  face  will  turn 

On  us  with  glances  mild ; 
The  angels  of  his  presence  yearn 

To  bless  the  little  child. 


THE    SWEET    STORY. 

I  THINK,  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of 
old, 
When  Jesus  was  here  among  men — 
How  he  called  little  children  like  lambs  to 
his  fold — 
I  should  like  to  have  been  with  him  then. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  33 

I  wish  that  his  hands  had  been  placed  on  my 
head, 
And  his  arms  had  been  thrown  around  me  ; 
And  that  I  might  have  seen  his  kind  look 
wdien  he  said, 
^^Let  the  little  ones  come  unto  me/^ 

But  still  to  his  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 
And  ask  for  a  share  of  his  love  ; 

And  if  I  thus  earnestly  seek  him  below, 
I  shall  see  him  and  hear  him  above — 

In  that  beautiful  place  he  has  gone  to  pre- 
pare 

For  all  who  are  washed  and  forgiven ; 
And  many  dear  children  are  gathering  there. 

For  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


THE    LOVE   OF   CHRIST. 

Jesus  loves  me — this  I  know. 
For  the  Bible  tells  me  so ; 
Little  ones  to  him  belong — 
They 'are  weak,  but  he  is  strong. 


34  ^      GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Jesus  loves  me — lie  who  died 
Heaven^s  gate  to  open  Avide ; 
He  will  wash  away  my  sin : 
Let  his  little  child  come  in. 

Jesus  loves  me — loves  me  still, 
Though  I'm  very  weak  and  ill ; 
From  his  shinino:  throne  on  hio;h 
Comes  to  w^atch  me  w^here  I  lie. 

Jesus  loves  me — he  w^ill  stay 
Close  beside  me  all  the  way ; 
If  I  love  him  w^hen  I  die, 
He  will  take  me  home  on  lil^h. 


LITTLE  THINGS. 

Little  drops  of  water,  little  grains  of  sand. 
Make   the   mighty  ocean   and    the   pleasant 
land ; 

And  the  little  moments,  humble  though  they 

be, 
Make  the  mighty  ages  of  Eternity. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  35 

So  our  little  errors  lead  the  soul  astray 
From  the  paths  of  virtue,  oft  in  sin  to  stray. 

Little  deeds  of  kindness,  little  words  of  love, 
Make  our  earth  an   Eden  like  the  heaven 
above. 


CRADLE    HYMN. 

Hush,  my  dear !  lie  still  and  slumber ; 

Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed, 
Heavenly  blessings  without  number 

Gently  falling  on  thy  head. 

Sleep,  my  babe !  thy  food  and  raiment, 
House  and  home  thy  friends  provide ; 

And  without  thy  care  or  payment 
All  thy  wants  are  w^ell  supplied. 

Soft  and  easy  is  thy  cradle ; 

Coarse  and  hard  thy  Saviour  lay. 
When  his  birth-place  was  a  stable. 

And  his  softest  bed  was  hay. 


36  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

Mayst  thou  live  to  know  and  fear  him, 
Trust  and  love  him  all  thy  days ; 

Then  go  dwell  for  ever  near  him, 
See  his  face  and  sing  his  praise. 

I  could  give  thee  thousand  kisses, 
Hoping  what  I  most  desire; 

Xot  a  mother's  fondest  wishes 
Can  to  greater  joys  aspire. 

Dr.  Watts. 


OUR    FATHER. 

Dearest  Father!  dwelling  high, 
Far  above  the  starry  sky ; 
Seated  on  thy  shining  throne, 
Hear  me  pray,  ^^Thy  kingdom  come.'' 

Hear  me  bless  his  holy  name 
AVho  a  little  cliild  became — 
Bless  the  Spirit  thou  hast  given, 
God  most  high,  in  earth  and  heaven. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  37 


Wicked  I  have-  often  been ; 
Oh,  forgive  me  every  sin, 
Even  as  I  forgive  each  one 
Who  to  me  a  wrono;  has  done. 


■^a 


Keep  me  from  each  evil  thought, 
For  the  Lord  my  soul  has  bought ; 
Me  from  powers  of  evil  keep 
When  I  wake  and  when  I  sleep. 

I,  thy  little  child,  would  bring 
Prayers  and  praises  to  my  King ; 
Let  my  heart  cease  singing  never, 
^'  Glory  be  to  God  for  ever.'^ 

Helen  Louisa  Brown. 


THE  TWO    PENNIES. 

A  PENNY  I  have,  it  is  all  my  own. 
Little  Charlotte  exclaimed  in  a  lively  tone; 
I  cannot  do  much  with  a  penny,  I  fear. 
But  I'll  buy  myself  something  to  eat  or  to 
wear. 

4 


38  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

A  penny  I  have,  little  Mary  said, 

And  she  thoughlfully  raised  her  hand  to  her 

head ; 
Both  missions  and   schools  need   money,   I 

know, 
But  I  fear  it  is  little  my  penny  can  do. 

So  Charlotte  ran  off  and  some  apples  she 
bought. 

While  Mary  her  mite  to  the  mission-box 
brought; 

And  which  of  them,  think  you,  more  cheer- 
fully smiled  ? 

And  which  of  the  two  was  the  happier  child  ? 

M.  A.  Stoddard. 


TWINKLE,    LITTLE   STAR. 

Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  star; 
How  I  wonder  what  you  are, 
Up  above  the  world  so  high, 
Like  a  diamond  in  the  sky ! 
When  the  shining  sun  is  set, 
When  the  grass  with  dew  is  wet, 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  39 

Then  you  show  your  little  light, 
Twinkle,  twinkle,  all  the  night. 
In  the  dark  blue  sky  you  keep, 
And  often  through  my  curtains  peep. 
For  you  never  shut  your  eye 
Till  the  sun  is  in  the  sky. 


BUSY    BEE. 

How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 

Improve  each  shining  hour, 
And  gather  honey  all  the  day. 

From  every  opening  flower  ! 
How  skillfully  she  builds  her  cell, 

How  neat  she  lays  her  wax, 
And  labors  hard  to  start  it  well, 

With  the  sweet  food  she  makes  ! 
In  works  of  labor  or  of  skill 

I  would  be  busy  too ; 
For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 

For  idle  hands  to  do. 

Isaac  Watts. 


40  GOLDEN   SOjSGS. 


VESPER. 


Thou  that  rulest  earth  and  heaven, 

Darkness  and  light, 
Who  the  day  for  toil  hast  given, 

For  rest  the  night ! 
May  thine  angel-guards  defend  us, 
Slumbers  sweet  thy  mercy  send  us. 
Holy  hopes  and  dreams  attend  us, 

This  livelong  night. 

Reginald  Heber. 


EVENING    HYMN. 

Glory  to  thee,  my  God,  this  night, 
For  all  the  l)lessino:s  of  the  lio:ht ; 
Keep  me,  oh  keep  me,  King  of  kings, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  thy  wings. 

Forgive  me,  Lord,  through  thy  dear  Son, 
The  ills  which  I  this  day  have  done; 
That  with  the  world,  myself  and  thee, 
I,  ere  I  sleep,  at  peace  may  be. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  41 

Teach  me  to  live  that  I  may  dread 
The  grave  as  little  as  my  bed ; 
Teach  me  to  die,  that  so  I  may 
Rise  joyful  at  the  judgment-day. 

Be  thou  my  Guardian  while  I  sleep ; 
Thy  watchful  station  near  me  keep; 
My  heart  with  love  celestial  fill, 
And  guard  me  from  the  approach  of  ill. 

Lord,  let  my  heart  for  ever  share 
The  bliss  of  thy  paternal  care ; 
^Tis  heaven  on  earth,  His  heaven  above, 
To  see  thy  face,  to  sing  thy  love. 

Bishop  Ken. 


THE   BABY. 

Another  little  w^ave  upon  the  sea  of  life, 
Another  soul  to  save  amid  its  toil  and  strife ; 
Two  more  little  feet  to  w^alk  the  dusty  road. 
To  choose  where  two  paths  meet — the  narrow 
and  the  broad. 
4* 


42  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Two  more  little  hands  to  work  for  good  or 

ill; 

Two  more  little  eyes,  anotlier  little  will; 
Another  heart  to  love,  receiving  love  again ; 
And  so  the  baby  came,  a  thing  of  joy  and 
pain. 

Mrs.  Lucy  E.  Akerman. 


CRADLE    HYMN. 

Sw^EET  baby,  sleep  !  what  ails  my  dear? 

What  ails  my  darling  thus  to  cry? 
Be  still,  my  child,  and  lend  thine  ear 

To  hear  me  sing  thy  lullaby : 
My  pretty  lamb,  forbear  to  weep. 
Be  still,  my  dear ;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 

Thou  blessed  soul,  what  canst  thou  fear  ? 

What  thing  to  thee  can  mischief  do? 
Thy  God  is  now  thy  Father  dear. 

His  holy  Church  thy  mother  too ; 
Sweet  baby,  then  forbear  to  weep. 
Be  still,  my  babe;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  43 

Whilst  thus  thy  lullaby  I  sing, 

For  thee  great  blessings  ripening  be ; 

Thine  elclest  Brother  is  a  King, 

And  hath  a  kingdom  bought  for  thee ; 

Sweet  baby,  then  fo^ear  to  weep. 

Be  still,  my  babe ;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 

Sweet  baby,  sleep,  and  nothing  fear, 

For  whosoever  thee  offends 
By  thy  Protector  threatened  are, 

And  God  and  angels  are  thy  friends; 
Sweet  baby,  then  forbear  to  weep. 
Be  still,  my  babe ;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 

George  Withers. 


TO-DAY   AND   TO-MORROW. 

To-day  !  a  lisping  child,  with  hair  all  golden, 
And  blue  of  summer  morning  in  his  eyes, 

And  cheeks  ao-low  with  kisses  of  new  lovinsr. 
Sees  old  things  new,  with  ignorant  surprise  ; 
To-morrow !  and  he  knows  the  songs  they 
sino-  in  Paradise. 


44  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

To-day  !  a  youth  in  pride  of  early  manliood, 
Witli  light  of  far-off  hope  upon  his  brow, 

With  eager  expectation  of  the  coming, 

And  wild  impatience  of  the  loitering  now ; 
To-morrow !   he   h§,th  touched  the  throne 
at  which  all  angels  bow. 

To-day !  an  old  man  lingers  in  his  sadness ; 
Great  griefs  have  digged  deep  furrows  in 
his  cheeks ; 
A  cold  grave,  with  the  long-ago  departed, 
In  stammering  words,  is  all  the  boon  he 

seeks ; 
To-morrow!  with  unfaltering  lips  the  joy 
of  heaven  he  speaks. 


WORK   AND    PLAY. 

Work  while  you  work,  play  while  you  play; 
That  is  the  way  to  be  cheerful  and  gay ; 
All  that  you  do,  do  with  your  might — 
Things  done  by  halves  are  never  done  right. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  45 


BESSIE    BELL 


Dear  mother,  why  do  all  the  girls 

Love  little  Bessie  Bell  ? 
IVe  often  thought  it  o'er  and  o'er, 

And  yet  I  cannot  tell. 
My  favorite  cousin  always  was 

Dear  gentle  cousin  Bess  ; 
But  why  the  others  love  her  so 

Indeed  I  cannot  guess. 

They  hear  her  gentle  voice,  my  child, 

And  see  her  mild,  soft  eye 
Beaming  around  on  every  one 

With  love  and  sympathy ; 
They  see  her  striving  every  hour 

For  others'  happiness : 
These  are  some  reasons  why  the  girls 

So  love  dear  little  Bess. 

Her  widow^ed  mother's  heart  she  cheers 

With  love  and  tenderness, 
And  by  her  daily  walk  with  God 

And  growth  in  holiness  : 


46  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Sweet  Bessie  is  a  Christian  child, 
She  loves  the  Saviour  dear : 

One  of  the  lambs  of  his  own  flock, 
She  has  no  want  or  fear. 

Money,  M'hich  other  children  spend 

In  candy,  toys  or  cakes, 
She  carries  to  the  poor  and  sick — 

She  lov^es  thera  for  Christ's  sake. 
Poor  old  blind  Dinah  down  the  lane 

She  reads  to  every  day, 
And  ne'er  forgets  it,  though  dear  Bess 

Is  very  fond  of  play. 

And  now,  ray  little  daughter  dear, 

AVould  you  be  loved  like  Bess? 
Go  ask  of  God  to  change  your  heart 

From  pride  to  humbleness. 
Better  than  beauty,  rank  or  gold 

To  be  like  little  Bess, 
Clothed  in  the  spotless  garment 

Of  the  Saviour's  righteousness. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  47 


OUR    BABY. 

To-day  we  cut  the  fragrant  sod  with  trem- 
bling hands  asunder, 

And  lay  this  well-beloved  of  God^  our  dear 
dead  baby,  under ; 

O  hearts  that  ache,  and  ache  afresh !  O 
tears  too  blindly  raining ! 

Our  hearts  are  weak,  yet,  being  fleshy  too 
strong  for  our  restraining. 

Sleep,  darling,  sleep !  cold  rains  shall  steep 

thy  little  turf-made  dwelling; 
Thou  wilt   not   know — so  far  below — what 

winds  and  storms  are  swelling; 
And  birds  shall  sing  in  the  warm  spring,  and 

flowers  bloom  about  thee ; 
Thou  wilt  not  heed  them,  love !  but  oh  the 

loneliness  without  thee ! 

Father,  we  will  be  comforted  ;  thou  wast  the 

gracious  Giver ; 
We  yield  her  up — not  dead,   not  dead — to 

dwell  with  thee  for  ever ; 


48  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Take  tliou  our  child,  ours  for  a  clay;  thine 
^vhile  the  ages  blossom ; 

Tliis  h'ttle  shining  head  ^ve  lay  in  the  Re- 
deemer's bosom. 


TWO    LITTLE    ROBINS. 

Two  Robin  Redbreasts  built  their  nest 

Witliin  a  hollow  tree; 
The  hen  sat  quietly  at  home, 

The  cock  sang  merrily  ; 
And  all  the  little  young  ones  said, 

**  We,  wee — we,  wee — we,  wee.'' 

One  day  the  sun  was  warm  and  bright, 

And  shining  in  the  sky; 
Cock  Robin  said,  "My  little  dears, 

'Tis  time  you  learned  to  fly," 
And  all  the  little  young  ones  said, 

"  We'll  try— we'll  try— we'll  try.'' 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  49 

I  know  a  cliikl,  and  who  she  is 

I'll  tell  you  by  and  by ; 
When  mauima  says,  ^^Do  tliis  or  tliat/' 

She  says,  ^^What  for?''  and  ^^  Why  f' 
She'd  be  a  better  child  by  far 

If  she  would  say,  ''  I'll  try." 


THE  GRAIN  OF  CORN  AND  THE  PENNY. 

A  GRAIN  of  corn  an  infant's  hand 

May  plant  upon  an  inch  of  land, 

Whence  twenty  stalks  may  spring,  and  yield 

Enough  to  stock  a  little  field  ; 

The  harvest  of  that  field  might  tlien 

Be  multiplied  to  ten  times  ten, 

Which,  sown  thrice  more,  \vould  furnish  bread 

Wherewith  an  army  might  be  fed. 

A  penny  is  a  little  thing,- 
Which  even  the  poor  man's  child  may  fling 
Into  the  treasury  of  heaven. 
And  make  it  worth  as  much  as  seven  ; 
As  seven  ? — nay,  Avorth  its  weight  in  gold  ; 
And  that  increased  a  million-fold. 
5 


50  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

For  ]o  !  a  penny  tract  applied 
But  well,  may  save  a  soul  alive; 
That  soul  can  scarce  be  saved  alone : 
It  must,  it  will,  its  bliss  make  known. 
*'  Come,"  it  will  cry,  ^'  and  you  shall  see 
AVhat  great  things  God  hath  done  for  me." 
Hundreds  that  joyful  sound  may  hear — 
Hear  with  the  heart  as  well  as  ear — 
And  these  to  thousands  more  proclaim 
Salvation  in  the  ^^  only  name  ;" 
Till  every  tongue  and  tribe  shall  call 
On  Jesus  as  the  Lord  of  all. 

J.  Montgomery. 


LITTLE   DEEDS. 

Not   mighty   deeds   make   up   the   sum   of 

happiness  below, 
But  little  acts  of  kindliness  that  any  child 

may  show ; 
A  merry  sound  to  cheer  the  babe  and  drive 

away  his  fear, 
A   word   of  childish   sympathy,  to  dry  the 

childish  tear. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  51 

A  glass  of  water  timely  brought,  an  offered 

easy-chair ; 
A  turning  of  the  window  blind,  that  all  may 

feel  the  air ; 
A  shading  of  the  lamp  for  eyes  too  weak  the 

light  to  bear ; 
An  early  flower  bestowed   unasked,  a  light 

and  cautious  tread ; 
A  voice  to  gentle  whispers  hushed  to  spare 

an  aching  head  ; 
The  little  ones  amused  for  hours,  or  patient 

slowly  led. 

Oh  deeds  like  these,  though  little  things,  un- 
selfish love  disclose. 

As  fragrant  perfume  on  the  air  reveals  the 
hidden  rose ; 

Our  heavenly  Father  loves  to  see  these  pre- 
cious fruits  of  love; 

And  those  who  are  unselfish  here  shall  dwell 
with  him  above. 


52  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


GOOD-NIGHT   AND    GOOD-MORNING. 

A  DEAR  little  girl  sat  under  a  tree, 
Sewing  as  long  as  her  eyes  could  see ; 
Then  smoothed  her  work  and  fokled  it  right, 
And  said,   '^  Dear  work,  good-night !  good- 
night r 

Such  a  number  of  rooks  came  over  her  head, 
Crying,  Caw,  caw,  caw,  on  their  way  to  bed ; 
She  said,  as  she  watched  their  curious  flight, 
^^  Little    black     things,    good-night !    good- 
night V' 

The  horses  neighed,  the  oxen  lowed, 

The  sheep's  bleat,  bleat,  came  over  the  road, 

All  seeming  to  say  with  quiet  deh'ght, 

^^  Good  little  girl !  good-night !  good-night !" 

She  did  not  say  to  the  sun,  Good-night ! 
Though   she  saw  him   there  like  a   ball   of 

light; 
For  she  knew  he  had  God's  time  to  keep 
All  over  the  worhl,  and  never  could  sleep. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  53 

The  tall  pink  foxglove  bowed  his  head, 
The  violets  curtsied  and  went  to  bed ; 
And  good  little  Lucy  tied  up  her  hair, 
And  said  on  her  knees  her  favorite  prayer. 

And  while  on  her  pillow  she  softly  lay, 
She  knew  nothing  more  till  again  it  was  day. 
And  all  things  said  to  the  beautiful  sun, 
'^  Good-morning  !  good-morning  !  our  work  is 
begun/^ 

R.    M.    MiLNES. 


THE    BLESSING    OF    LABOR. 

Labor   gives   rest    from   the   sorrow^s    that 

greet  us — 
Rest  from  the  petty  vexations  that  meet  us ; 
Rest  from  sin-promptings  that  ever  entreat 

us ; 
Rest  from  temptations  that  lure  us  to  ill ; 
Work !  and  pure  slumbers  shall  wait  on  thy 

pillow ; 
Work !  thou  shalt  ride  over  care's  coming 

billow, 
Work  with  a  stout  heart  and  resolute  will. 

5* 


54  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

"Work  for  some  good,  be  it  ever  so  slowly, 
Cherish  some  plant,  be  it  ever  so  lowly; 
Labor  !  Such  labor  is  noble  and  holy  ; 

Let  thy  good  deeds  be  thy  prayer  to  thy 
God. 

Mrs.  Osgood. 


SPEAK    GENTLY. 

Speak  gently  :  it  is  better  far 

To  rule  by  love  than  fear; 
Speak  gently  :  let  not  harsh  words  mar 

The  good  we  might  do  here. 

Speak  gently  to  the  aged  one : 
Grieve  not  the  care-worn  heart ; 

The  sands  of  life  are  nearly  run — 
Let  such  in  peace  depart. 

Speak  gently,  kindly  to  the  ])oor : 
Let  no  harsh  tones  be  heard ; 

They  have  enough  they  must  endure 
Without  an  unkind  word. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  55 

Speak  gently :  'tis  a  little  thing 
Dropped  in  the  heart's  deep  well ; 

The  good,  the  joy  that  it  may  bring 
Eternity  shall  tell. 


THE   CHILD'S   FIRST   GRIEF. 

Oh  call  my  brother  back  to  me ; 

I  cannot  play  alone ; 
The  summer  comes  with  flower  and  bee : 

Where  has  my  brother  gone  ? 
The  butterfly  is  glancing  bright 

Across  the  sunbeam's  track ; 
I  care  not  now  to  chase  his  flight ; 

Oh  call  my  brother  back. 

"He  would  not  hear  thy  voice,  my  child; 

He  may  not  come  to  thee : 
The  face  that  once  like  spring-time  smiled, 

On  earth  no  more  thou'lt  see ; 
A  rose's  bright,  brief  life  of  joy, 

Such  unto  him  was  given ; 
Go,  thou  must  play  alone,  my  boy; 

Thy  brother  is  in  heaven." 


56  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  has  he  left  his  birds  and  flowers? 

And  must  I  call  in  vain? 
And  througb  the  long,  long  summer  hours 

Will  he  not  come  again  ? 
And  by  the  brook  and  in  the  glade 

Are  all  our  wanderings  o'er  ? 

Oh  when  my  brother  with  me  played 

Would  I  had  loved  him  more ! 

Mrs.  Hemans. 

PRIDE   AND    HUMILITY. 

How  proud  we  are,  how  fond  of  show ! 
We  call  our  clothing  "rich''  and  "new,'' 
AVhen  the  poor  sheep  and  silkworm  wore 
The  stuff  that  makes  them  long  before. 

The  tulip  and  the  butterfly 

Wear  a  far  gayer  coat  than  I ; 

liCt  me  be  dressed  fine  as  I  will, 

Flies,  worms,  birds,  flowers  surpass  me  still. 

There  is  a  pure  and  lovely  dress 
I  pray  my  God  to  give  to  me — 

My  Saviour's  robe  of  righteousness, 
And  for  my  crown,  Humility. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  57 

EVENING    HYMN. 

Jesus,  tender  Shepherd,  hear  rae ; 

Bless  thy  little  lambs  to-night ; 
Through  the  darkness  be  thou  near  me, 

Watch  my  sleep  till  morning  light. 

All  the  day  thy  hand  liast  led  me, 

And  I  thanlv  thee  for  thy  care; 
Thou  hast  clothed  me,  warmed  me,  fed  me; 

Listen  to  my  evening  j)rayer. 

Let  my  sins  be  all  forgiven, 

Bless  the  friends  I  love  so  ^Yell ; 

Take  me  when  I  die  to  heaven, 
Happy  there  with  thee  to  dwell. 

M.  L.  Duncan. 

TOUCH    NOT,    TASTE    NOT. 

Touch  not  the  tempting  cup,  my  boy,  though 

urged  by  friend  or  foe ; 
Dare   when    the   tempter    urges    most,    dare 
nobly  say  Xo  !  no  ! 
The  warning  given  from  on  high 
Shall  tell  your  soul  the  reason  why. 


58  GOLDEX   SOXGS. 

Touch    not   the  tempting   cup,   my  boy,   in 

righteousness  be  brave, 
Take  not  the  first,  the  fatal  step  toward  a 
drunkard's  grave ; 
The  widow's  groan,  the  orphan's  sigh 
Shall  tell  your  soul  the  reason  why. 


ROBINS. 

A  VERY  pretty  sight  tliis  morning  I  did  see, 
Four  little  robins  sitting  on  a  tree; 
A  bright  red  cherry  one  of  them  did  pull; 
It  was  large  and  ripe  and  very  beautiful. 

So  he  gave  it  to  his  mate  as  if  wishing  her 

to  see, 
And  passed  it  along  to  each  of  the  three; 
And  then  they  all  began  to  eat  a  little  piece, 
Stopping  to  whistle,  Oh  how  very  nice ! 

And  when  they  had  eaten  it  all  so  lovingly, 
They  flew  away  again,  singing  right  merrily; 
These  little  robins,  living  so  happily, 
Teach  many  lessons  sweet  and  dear  to  me. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  59 

How  boys  can  harai  them  I  do  not  know. 
And  be  so  cruel  to  them  and  make  them  fear 
us  so. 

Miss  Taylor, 


MRS.    LOFTY   AND    I 

Mrs.  Lofty  keeps  a  carriage — so  do  I ; 
She  has  dapple  grays  to  draw  it — none  have  I ; 
She's   no   prouder  with    her  coachman  than 

am  I 
With  my  blue-eyed,  laughing  baby,  trund- 
ling by ; 
I  hide  his  face  lest  she  should  see 
The  cherub  boy,  and  envy  me. 

Mrs.  Lofty  has  her  jewels — so  have  I; 
She  wears  hers  upon  her  bosom — inside  I ; 
She   will    leave   hers   at   death's  portals  by 

and  by ; 
I  shall  bear  the  treasure  with  me  when  I 
die ; 
For  I  have  love  and  she  has  gold ; 
She  counts  her  wealth,  mine  can't  be  told. 


60  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Her  fine  husband  has   white  fingers — mine 

has  not ; 
He  could  give  his  bride  a  palace — mine  a  cot ; 
Hers  comes  home  beneath  the  starlight — ne'er 

cares  she ; 
Mine  comes  in  the  purple  twilight,  kisses  me, 
And  prays  that  He  who  turns  life's  sands 
Will  hold  his  loved  ones  in  his  hands. 

She  has  those  that   love  her  station — none 
have  I ; 

But  Fve  one  true  heart  beside  me — glad  am  I ; 

I'd  not  change  it  for  a  kingdom,  no  not  I ; 

God  will  weigh  it  in  his  balance,  by  and  by ; 
And  then  the  difference  will  define 
'Tvvixt  Mrs.  Lofty's  wealth  and  mine. 

LET   IT    PASS. 

Be  not  swift  to  take  offence — let  it  pass ! 
Anger  is  a  foe  to  sense — let  it  pass  ! 
Brood  not  darkly  o'er  a  wrong, 
Which  will  disappear  ere  long ; 
Rather  sing  tliis  cheery  song :   Let  it  pass ! 
let  it  pass ! 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  61 

Strife  corrodes  the  purest  mind  ;  let  it  pass  ! 
As  the  unregarded  wind,  let  it  pass ! 
Any  vulgar  souls  that  live 
May  condemn  without  reprieve ; 
^Tis  the  noble  who  forgive ;  let  it  pass  !  let 
it  pass ! 

Echo  not  an  angry  word  ;  let  it  pass  ! 
Think  how  often  you  have  erred ;  let  it  pass  ! 
Since  our  joys  must  pass  away 
Like  the  dew-drops  on  the  spray. 
Wherefore  should  our  sorrows  stay?  let  them 
pass  !  let  them  pass  ! 

If  for  good  you've  taken  ill ;  let  it  pass ! 
Oh  be  kind  and  gentle  still ;  let  it  pass  ! 
Time  at  last  makes  all  things  straight; 
Let  us  not  resent,  but  wait, 
And  our  triumph  shall  be  great ;  let  it  pass  ! 
let  it  pass ! 

Bid  your  anger  to  depart ;  let  it  pass  I 

Lay  these  homely  words  to  heart ;  let  it  pass  i 

6 


62  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Follow  not  the  giddy  throng ; 
Better  to  be  wronged  than  wrong; 
Therefore  sing  the  cheery  song,  let  it  pass ! 
let  it  pass ! 

All  the  Year  Round. 


SHADOWS. 

The    candles    are    lighted,    the    fire    blazes 
bright ; 
The  cnrtains  are  drawn  to  keep  out  the 
cold  air; 
What  makes  you  so  grave,  little  darling,  to- 
night?- 
And  where  is  your  smile,  little  quiet  one? 
where  ? 

Mamma,   I   see   something  so  dark   on    the 
wall ; 
It  moves  up  and  down  and  it  looks  very 
strange ; 
Sometimes   it  is   large  and   sometimes  it  is 
small ; 
Pray  tell  me  what  is  it,  and  why  does  it 
change  ? 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  63 

It's  only  my  shadow  that  puzzles  you  so, 
And  there  is  your  own  close  beside  it,  my 
love; 
Now  run  round  the  room,  it  will  go  where 
you  go ; 
When  you  sit,  ^twill  be  still;   when  you 
rise,  it  will  move. 

These  wonderful  shadows  are  made  by  the 
light 
From  the  fire  and  from  candles,  upon  us 
that  falls ; 
Were  we  not  sitting  here,  all  that  place  would 
be  bright. 
But  the  light  can't  shine  through  us,  you 
know,  on  the  walls. 

And  when  you  are  out  some  fine  day  in  the 
sun, 
I'll  take  you  where  shadows  of  apple  trees 
lie ; 
And  houses  and  cottages  too,  every  one 

Casts  a  shade  when  the  sun  shineth  bright 
in  the  sky. 


64  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

Xow  hold  up  your  mouth,  and  give  me  a 
sweet  kiss ; 
Our   shadows   kiss   too,   don't   you   see  it 
quite  plain  ? 
*^0h  yes — thank  you,  mamma,  for  telling  me 
this; 
I  shall  not  be  afraid  of  a  shadow  again. '^ 

M.  L.  Duncan, 


"PATCH  IE." 

The  bell  had  rung,  the  school  was  out, 
And  from  the  hall  with  busy  feet 

The  boys  rushed  forth  with  laugh  and  shout, 
And  crowded  through  the  village  street, 

Like  prisoners  from  their  cells  broke  loose, 

Escaping  from  the  calaboose. 

Across  the  street,  and  all  alone, 

A  small  boy  walked  with  rapid  gait. 

Like  one  unknowing  and  unknown. 
With  head  erect  and  form  so  straight; 

He  heeded  not  the  crowd  that  cried, 

'•  See  '  ratchie'  on  the  other  side !" 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  65 

I  wondered  much  why  this  should  be, 
But  when  I  looked  I  knew  too  w^ell : 

The  noblest  of  them  all  was  he ; 
But  sad  to  think,  more  sad  to  tell, 

He  from  the  crowd  had  been  detached 

Because  his  pantaloons  w^ere  patched ! 

No  answering  word  escaped  him  there ; 

I  watched  him  as  he  climbed  the  hill. 
Then  thought,  ^^Each  other's  burdens  bear, 

And  thus  the  law  of  Christ  fulfill  f 
And  so  I  joined  him  on  the  road, 
Hoping  to  lighten  his  sad  load. 

I  spoke  in  loving  words  and  kind ; 

He,  smiling,  looked  up  in  my  face — 
He  had  a  true  and  noble  mind — 

And  answered  with  a  manly  grace, 
^^My  father,  sir,  has  long  been  dead, 
And  mother  earns  our  daily  bread. 

"  To  school  she  sends  me  every  day, 

I  do  the  best  there  that  I  can. 
And  mother  says  she'll  get  her  pay 

When  I  grow  up  to  be  a  man ; 

6* 


66  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And,  sir,  I  hope  that  I  shall  be 
All  that  my  mother  wishes  me. 

^^They  call  me  ^Patchie;'  I  don't  oare,'^ 
Said  he,  while  passing  through.the  gate ; 

*'  It's  what  Ave  are,  not  what  we  w^ear. 

That  makes  us  good  and  makes  us  great  ;'^ 

He  touched  his  cap,  and  said  good-night; 

I  whispered,  ^'  Noble,  brave  and  right." 

I  started  on  my  homeward  way : 
Not  only  boys,  but  men,  I  thought, 

Pass  by  the  poor  ones  every  day ; 
Only  the  rich  and  grand  are  sought; 

This  w^orld,  so  full  of  foolish  pride, 

Puts  **  Patchie''  on  the  other  side. 

Mrs.  S.  T.  Perry. 


KATIE'S    DREAM. 

It  was  a  warm  and  sultry  afternoon, 
And  little  Katie's  weary,  tangled  head 

Fell  slowly  down  upon  her  open  book. 
And  Katie  slept  as  sound  as  if  in  bed. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  67 

And  in  her  dreams  her  little  brother  came 
(Dear    little  Willie^  who   to    heaven  had 
gone), 
And  pressed  his  face  to  hers,  and  called  her 
name 
AVith  many  a  loving  and  endearing  tone. 

And  she  had  kissed  his  little  rosy  cheek, 
Whose  pretty  dimples  still  were  lingering 
there, 
Looked  in  his  laughing,  deep  blue  eyes  once 
more, 
Played  with  the  ringlets  of  his  golden  hair, 

*^Stay  with  me,  Willie!  darling  boy!"  she 
cried ; 
*^  For  though  the  angels  are  so  bright  and 
fair. 
They  cannot  love  you  as  your  sister  loves — 
Oh,  Willie  dear,  do  not  stay  always  there  !'^ 

Just  then  a  sudden  stir  was  in  the  room. 
And  on  her  ear  the  teacher's   loud  voice 
broke, 


68  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

^^ Children,  a  storm  is  coming  !  hasten  home ;" 
Willie   went  back  to   heaven,   and    Katie 
woke ! 

She  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  there  came  rolling 
down 
Great  tears  upon  her  flushed  and  fevered 
cheek. 
^^Why,  what's  the  matter  dear?"  said  little 
Bell, 
But   Katie   only   sobbed,   and    could    not 
speak. 

At  length  she  said,   "Oh,  Bell,  my  Willie 
came — 

But  now  I  know  it  only  was  a  dream ; 
For  mother  says  he^ll  never  come  to  us, 

But  some  day  we  shall  go  away  to  him." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  and  see   him,  then  ?" 
said  Bell. 
"  Why,  dear,  I  do  not  know  the  Vay ; 
You  know  1  was  so  very  sick  myself, 

I  could  not  sec  where  they  all  went  that 
day."' 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  69 

'*  Then  I  can  tell  you,  darling,  where  he^s 
gone ; 
I  watched  them  till  they  turned  into  the 
gate/' 
*^What,   heaven's  gatef'    said   Katy.     ^^Oh 
let's  run, 
And  find  dear  Willie  ere  it  be  too  late  !'' 

Then  hand  in  hand  the  eager  children  ran 
To  find  the  gate  of  heaven  and  little  Will ; 

The  rain  in  torrents  beat  upon  their  heads, 
But  only  made  them  run  the  faster  still. 

^^  There  !  that's  the  place  !"  said  Bell,  as  up- 
ward rose 

The  cemetery's  heavy  iron  gate. 
*^  Now,  hurry,  Katie  !  hurry  !  for  you  know 

Our  mother  said  we  must  not  stay  out  late." 

The  rain  beat  on  the  little  curly  head 

As  loud   she  knocked,  then  louder  than 
before : 
"  Willie  !  dear  AVillie  !  sister  Katie  calls, 
Please  bring  the  key  and  open   heaven's 
door  !^' 


70  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

''I  hear  him,  Bell !  I  hear  his  little  feet!" 
And   smiles  broke  o'er  her  faee  like  sun 
through  cloud. 
"No,  darling,  ^tis   the  pattering  rain-drops' 
beat;' 
"Well,  now,  I'll  call  him  very  loud/' 

"Willie  !"  the  little  piercing  voice  then  cried, 
With  half  a  panting  sob  and  half  a  shriek — 

"  Willie,  do  come  !  poor  sister's  wet  and  tired, 
Waiting  so  long  to  kiss  your  little  cheek." 

"Perhaps  he's  playing  with  the  angels,  dear !" 
said  Bell, 
"And  does  not  hear  when  you  his  name 
repeat." 
"Ah,  now  he's  coming,  sure  !  for  I  know  well 
The  pretty  patter  of  his  baby  feet. 

"No,  no,  he  does  not  come.     Oh,  little  Will, 
How  long  you  leave  me  standing  in   the 
rain  ! 
Bell,  you  run  home,  but  I  must  wait  here 
still, 
For  I  can  never  find  the  way  again," 


GOLDEX   ^OXGS.  71 

At  leiio:th  came  those  who  Ion 2:  had  searched, 
and  late 
For  Katie  through  the  darkness  and  the 
storm ; 
Down  on  the  ground,  close  by  the  graveyard 
gate, 
They  found  the  little  senseless,  prostrate 
form. 

He  did  not  come  to  her,  but  she  had  gone 
To  him,  where  there  is  no  more  cloud  nor 
sea, 
And   through   earth^s   darkness,  gloom  and 
pelting  storm 
Kate  had  found  heaven's  gate,  and  entered 
in. 

From  thee,  sweet  Katie,  let  us  learn  aright — 
Not   at   death's    door   to    seek   the   way   to 

light. 
For  not  to  sight,  but  unto  faith,  ^tis  given. 
To  find  the  golden  gate  that  leads  to  hea- 
ven. 

B.  H.  B. 


72  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


CHRIST  AND  THE  LITTLE  ONES. 

^'  The  ]\Iaster  has  come  over  Jordan/' 
Said  Hannah,  the  mother,  one  day ; 

"  He  is  healing  the  people  who  throng  him 
With  a  touch  of  his  finger,  tliey  say." 

^^And  now  I  shall  carry  the  children, 
Little  Rachel,  and  Samuel,  and  John ; 

I  shall  carry  the  baby  Esther, 
For  the  Lord  to  look  upon." 

The  father  looked  at  her  kindly, 
But  he  shook  his  head  and  smiled : 

^^Now  who  but  a  doting  mother 
Would  think  of  a  thing  so  w^ild?'' 

^^  If  the  children  were  tortured  by^demons 
Or  dying  of  fever,  'twere  well, 

Or  had  they  the  taint  of  the  leper, 
Like  many  in  Israel." 

"Nay,  do  not  hinder  me,  Nathan; 

I  feel  such  a  burden  of  care 
If  I  carry  it  to  the  Master, 

Perhaps  I  shall  leave  it  there. 


GOLBEX   SOXGS.  73 

^•If  he  lay  liis  hand  on  the  children, 
My  heart  ^vill  be  lighter  I  know, 

For  a  bless hig  for  ever  and  ever 
Will  follow  them  as  they  go/^ 

So  over  the  hills  of  Judah, 

Along  by  the  vine-rows  green, 
With  Rachel  asleep  on  her  bosom, 

And  Esther  her  brothers  between, 

^Mong  the  people  who  hung  on  his  teaching, 
Or  waited  his  touch  and  his  word. 

Through  the  row  of  proud  Pharisees  listening, 
She  pressed  to  the  feet  of  the  Lord. 

^^]N"ow  why  should'st  thou  hinder  the  Master,^^ 
Said  I^ter,  ^^with  children  like  these? 

Seest  not  how  from  morning  till  evening 
He  toucheth  and  healeth  disease?'^ 

Then  Christ  said,  ^^ Forbid  not  the  children; 

Permit  them  to  come  unto  me ]^ 
And  he  took  in  his  arms  little  Esther, 

And  Rachel  he  set  on  his  knee. 
7 


74  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  the  heavy  heart  of  tlie  mother 
Was  lifted  all  earth-care  above, 

As  he  laid  his  hands  on  the  brothers 
And  blessed  them  with  tenderest  love — 

As  he  said  of  the  babe  in  his  bosom, 
"  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ]^ 

And  strength  for  all  duty  and  trial 
That  hour  to  her  spirit  was  given. 


THE   WOOD-MOUSE 

Do  you  know  the  little  wood-mouse, 

The  pretty  little  thing 
That  sits  among  the  forest  leaves 

Beside  the  forest  spring  ? 

Its  fur  is  as  red  as  the  chestnut, 
And  it  is  small  and  slim; 

It  leads  a  life  most  innocent 
Within  the  forest  dim. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  75 

^Tis  a  timid,  gentle  creature, 

And  seldom  comes  in  sight ; 
It  has  a  long  and  wiry  tail, 

And  eyes  both  black  and  bright. 

It  makes  its  nest  of  soft,  dry  moss 

In  a  hole  so  deep  and  strong ; 
And  there  it  sleeps  secure  and  warm 

The  dreary  winter  long. 

And  though  it  keeps  no  almanac, 

It  knows  when  jflowers  are  springing ; 

And  w^aketh  to  its  summer  life 
When  nightingales  are  singing. 

Upon  the  boughs  the  squirrel  sits, 

The  wood-mouse  plays  below ; 
And  plenty  of  food  it  finds  itself 

Where  the  beech  and  chestnut  grow. 

In  the  hedge-sparrow's  nest  he  sits 

When  its  summer  brood  is  fled, 
And  picks  the  berries  from  the  bough 

Of  the  hawthorn  overhead. 


76  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

I  saw  a  little  wood-mouse  once, 

liike  a  monarch  in  his  hall. 
With  the  green,  green  moss  beneath  his  feet, 

Sit  under  a  mushroom  tall. 

I  saw  him  sit  and  his  dinner  eat 

All  under  the  forest-tree — 
His  dinner  of  cliestnuts  ripe  and  red ; 

And  he  ate  it  heartily. 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him  there ; 

It  did  my  spirit  good 
To  see  the  small  thing  God  liad  made 

Thus  eating  in  the  wood. 

I  saw  that  he  regardeth  them — 
Those  creatures  weak  and  small ; 

Their  table  in  the  wild  is  spread 
By  Him  who  cares  for  all. 

Marv  How  ITT. 


riif   Kii-li^h  Cliil.l. 


(/olden  Sovga. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  77 


AN    ENGLISH  CHILD   IN  THE  DAYS   OF  WICKLIFFE. 

A  LITTLE  child,  she  read  a  book  beside  an 
open  door, 

And  as  she  read  page  after  page  she  won- 
dered more  and  more ; 

Her  littk  finger  carefully  went  pointing  out 
the  place ; 

Her  golden  locks  hung  drooping  down  and 
shadowed  half  her  face. 

The  open  book  lay  on  her  knee ;  her  eyes  on 

it  were  bent, 
And  as  she  read  page  after  page*  her  color 

came  and  went ; 
She  sat  upon  a  mossy  stone,  an  open  door 

beside, 
And  round,  for  miles  on  every  side,  stretched 

out  a  forest  wide. 

The  summer  sun  shone  on  the  trees,  the  deer 
lay  in  the  shade. 

And  overhead  the  singing  birds  their  pleas- 
ant clamor  made ; 

7* 


78  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

There  was  no  garden  round  about,  yet  flowers 

were  growing  free, 
The  cowslip  and  the  daffodil,  upon  the  forest 

lea. 


The  butterfly  w^ent  flitting  by,  the  bees  were 

in  the  flowers,  ' 

But  the  little  child  sat  steadfastly  as  she  had 

sat  for  hours. 
^^  Why  sit  ye  here,  my  little  maid?'^  an  aged 

pilgrim  spake; 
The  child  looked  upward  from  her  book,  like 

one  but  just  awake. 

Back   fell    her   locks    of    golden    hair,    and 

solemn  was  her  look. 
And  thus  she  answered  w^itlessly :  '^Oh,  sir, 

I  read  this  book/' 
"And  what  is  there  within  that  book  to  win 

a  child  like  thee? 
Up!  join  thy  mates,  the  singing-birds,  and 

frolic  like  the  bee." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  V9 

^^  Nay,  sir  !  I  cannot  leave  the  book  ;  I  love  it 

more  than  play ; 
I  have  read  legends,  but  this  one  saw  never 

till  to-day; 
And  there  is   something  in   this   book  that 

makes  all  care  begone, 
And  yet  I  weep,  I  know  not  why,  as  I  go 

readino;  on.'^ 


'^Who  art  thou,   child,   that   thou   shouldst 

read  a  book  with  so  much  heed  ? 
Books  are  for  clerks;  the  king  himself  hscs 

much  ado  to  read/' 
^^  My  father   is  a  forester,  a  bow^man   keen 

and  good  ; 
He  keeps  the  deer  within  their  bounds,  and 

worketh  in  the  w^ood. 

^^  My  mother  died  at  Candlemas ;  the  flowers 

are  all  in  blow, 
Upon  her  grave  at  Allenby,  down  in  the  val-e 

below/' 


80  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

This  said,  unto  her  book  she  turned  as  stead- 
fast as  before. 

^^Xay !''  said  the  pilgrim,  ^^nay  not  yet,  and 
you  must  tell  me  more. 

"Who  was    it   taught   you    thus   to  read?^' 

"  Ah,  sir,  it  was  my  mother; 
She  taught  me  both  to  read  and  spell,  and  so 

she  taught  my  brother ; 
My  brother  dwelt  at  Allenby,  with  the  good 

monk  alwav, 
And  this  new  book  he  brought  to  me,  but 

only  for  one  day. 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  is  a  Avondrous  book — better  than 

Charlemagne ; 
And  be  you  pleased  to  leave  me  now,  I'll 

read  in  it  again.'' 
"  Nay,  read  to  me,"  the  pilgrim   said ;   and 

the  little  child  went  on 
To   read    of  Christ,  as  is  set   forth   in  the 

gospel  of  St.  John. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  81 

On,  on  slie  read,  and  gentle  tears  adown  her 

cheeks  did  glide; 
The  pilgrim  sat  with  bended  head,  and  he 

Avept  by  her  side  ; 
"  I\^e  heard, ^^  said  he,  "  the  archbishop — I^ve 

heard  the  Pope  at  Rome — 
But  never  did  their  spoken   words   thus   to 

my  spirit  come. 

"  The  book,  it  is  a  blessed  book ;  its  name, 

what  may  it  be  f^ 
Said  she,  "They  are  the  words  of  Christ  that 

I  have  read  to  thee, 
Now  done  into  the  Eno:lish  tono:ue  for  folks 

unlearned  as  me/^ 

"Give  me  the  Book  and  let  me  read — my 
soul  is  strangely  stirred ; 

They  are  such  words  of  love  and  truth  as 
I  ne'er  before  have  heard /^ 

The  little  girl  gave  up  the  book,  and  the  pil- 
grim old  and  brown 

With  reverend  lips  did  kiss  the  l3age,  then 
on  the  stone  sat  down. 


82  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  aye  he  read  page  after  page;  page  after 

page  he  turned  ; 
And  as  he  read  their  blessed  words  his  heart 

within  him  burned, 
Still,  still  the  book  the  old  man  read,  as  he 

would  ne'er  have  done ; 
From  the  hour  of  noon  he  read  the  book 

until  the  set  of  sun. 


The  little  child  she  brought  him  out  a  cake 

of  wheaten  bread. 
And  it  lay  unbroken  at  eventide,  nor  did  he 

raise  his  head  ; 
Then    came   the   sturdy   forester    along   the 

homeward  track, 
Whistling  aloud  a  hunting-tune,  with  a  slaiu 

deer  on  his  back. 


Loud  greeting  gave  the  forester  unto  the  pil- 
grim poor; 
d  man  rose  with  thoi 
entered  at  the  door ; 


grim  poor; 
The  old  man  rose  with  thouo;htful  brow  and 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  83 

They  two  they  sat  them  down  to  meat,  and 

the  pilgrim  'gan  to  tell 
How  he  had   eaten  at  Olivet  and   drank  at 
'  Jacob's  well. 


And  then  he  told  him  he  had  knelt  where'er 

our  Lord  had  prayed ; 
How  he  had  In  the  garden  been  and  the  tomb 

where  he  was  laid  ; 
And  then  he  turned  unto  the  book  and  read 

in  English  plain 
How  Christ  had  died   on  Calvary — how  he 

had  risen  again. 

As   water   to    the   parched    soul,    as   to   the 

hungry  bread, 
So  fell  upon  the  woodman's  soul  each  word 

the  pilgrim  read  ; 
Thus   through   the   midnight  did  they  read 

until  the  dawn  of  day 
And  then  came  in  the  woodman's  son  to  take 

the  book  away. 


84  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

All  quick  and  troubled  was  his  speech;  his 

face  was  pale  with  dread ; 
For  he  said  the  kiug  had  made  a  law  that 

the  book  should  not  be  read, 
For  it  was  such  a  fearful  heresy,  the  holy 

abbot  said. 

Mary  IIowitt. 


THE  TEMPEST   AT   SEA, 

We  w^ere  crowded  in  the  cabin, 
Not  a  soul  would  dare  to  sleep, 

It  was  midnight  on  the  waters. 
And  a  storm  was  on  the  deep. 

'Tis  a  fearful  thing  in  winter 
To  be  shattered  by  the  blast. 

And  to  hear  the  rattling  trumpet 
Thunder,  "  Cut  away  the  mast  V^ 

So  w^e  shuddered  there  in  silence, 
For  the  stoutest  held  his  breath; 

While  the  hungry  sea  was  roaring, 
And  the  breakers  talked  with  death. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  85 

As  thus  we  sat  in  darkness, 

Each  one  busy  in  his  prayers, 
''  We  are  lost  !'^  the  captain  shouted, 

As  he  stao^o;ere<:l  down  the  stairs. 

But  his  little  daughter  whispered, 

As  she  took  his  icy  hand, 
^' Isn't  Cod  upon  the  ocean. 

Just  the  same  as  on  the  land  ?'' 

Then  we  kissed  the  little  maiden, 
And  we  spoke  in  better  cheer. 

And  we  anchored  safe  in  harbor 
When  the  morn  was  shining  clear. 

J.  T.  Fields. 


THE    LOST   CHILD. 

Alone,  beneath  the  heavy  shade, 
In  forest  thick  and  wild^ 

With  timid  eye  and  footstep  strayed 
A  poor  bewildered  child  ; 

Along  the  cold  swamp's  weedy  edge 
He  held  his  devious  way, 

8 


86  GOLDEX    SONGS. 

Where  colled  and  hissino;  in  the  hedo;e 

The  hideous  serpent  lay : 
The  hungry  wolf  witli  cry  of  death 

Lea])ed  past  him  in  the  chase ; 
The  wild  deer  lingered  in  his  path 

To  scan  the  stranger's  face. 

And  pale  and  full  of  agony 

That  little  face  appeared  ; 
And  terror  filled  his  soft  blue  eye 

At  every  sound  he  heard; 
His  yellow  curls  were  bare  and  wet, 

His  little  coat  was  torn, 
And  stains  of  blood  were  on  his  feet, 

By  reckless  travel  worn  : 
His  little  heart  was  sick  w^ith  fear. 

His  brain  was  wild  and  weak. 
And  hunger-pains,  so  hard  to  bear. 

Had  blenched  his  rosy  cheek. 

And  still  by  every  mossy  spot 
Wlicre  pleasant  berries  hide, 

He  sought,  and  when  he  found  them  not, 
Oh  bitterly  he  cried  ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  87 

Four  days  that  tangled  forest  through 

He  sought  his  home  in  vain ; 
Fond  hearts  were  breaking  there^  he  knew, 

To  see  his  face  again. 
^^  Mother  !  O  mother  V^  was  his  cry, 

Until  his  voice  grew  weak ; 
And  throat  and  tongue  were  parched  and  dry, 

And  then  he  could  not  speak. 

The  silent  shades  are  gathering  now 

With  dark  and  dewy  wings, 
Forming  in  dell  and  valley  low 

Dim  shades  of  fearful  things; 
His  frame  with  curdling  horror  shook, 

His  heart  grew  cold  as  clay ; 
He  crept  into  a  sheltered  nook. 

Crouched  down  and  tried  to  pray ; 
And  then  he  thought  that  God  was  near 

To  watch  above  his  bed. 
And  every  agonizing  fear 

And  phantom  horror  fled. 

The  pangs  of  hunger  died  away, 
And  grief  withdrew  its  sting ; 


88  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  slumber  o'er  his  spirit  lay, 

Soft  as  an  angel's  wing; 
And  then  he  dreamed  sweet  dreams  of  home, 

With  all  its  love  and  bliss — 
The  rural  feast,  the  lighted  room, 

The  mother's  tender  kiss ; 
The  little  face  grew  calm  and  white, 

His  slumber  still  and  deep; 
Sweet  boy,  thy  sorrows  end  to-night — 

Thou  shalt  not  wake  to  weep. 

*'  Mother,"  he  whispered  languidly, 

And  hugged  the  dewy  sod ; 
'Tis  done !  he  wakes  in  ecstasy. 

And  sees  the  face  of  God ; 
Tell  us,  ye  white-haired  wanderers 

In  life's  dark  devious  ways. 
Ye  who  have  sown  your  path  with  tears 

So  many  weary  days, 
Ou(yht  we  to  mourn  for  him  who  lies 

In  that  wild  dell  alone — 
Whose  weary  feet  and  weeping  eyes. 

Have  found  their  rest  so  soon  ? 

Mrs.  PiERsoN. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  89 

THE    LITTLE    MATCH-GIRL 

Little  Gretciiex,  little  Gretclieii 

Wanders  up  and  down  the  street; 
The  snow  is  on  her  yellow  hairs, 

The  frost  is  at  her  feet ; 
The  rows  of  long  dark  houses 

Without  look  cold  and  damp 
Beneath  the  struggling  moonbeams, 

By  the  flicker  of  the  lamp ! 

The  clouds  ride  fast  as  horses, 

The  wind  blows  from  the  north, 
But  no  one  cares  for  Gretchen, 

And  no  one  looketh  forth 
Within  the  lighted  houses 

Are  merry  faces  bright, 
And  happy  hearts  are  watching  out 

The  Old  Year's  latest  night. 

The  board  is  spread  with  plenty 
Where  the  smiling  kindred  meet; 

But  the  frost  lies  on  the  pavement 
Beneath  poor  Gretchen's  feet ; 


90  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

With  the  little  box  of  matches 
^  No  one  had  bought  that  day, 
And  the  thin,  thin,  tattered  mantle 
The  wind  blows  every  way. 

She  clingeth  to  the  railing, 

She  sliivers  in  the  gk)om : 
There  are  parents  sitting  snugly 

By  firelight  in  the  room  ; 
And  groups  of  busy  children — 

Withdrawing  just  the  tips 
Of  rosy  fingers,  pressed  in  vain 

Against  their  bursting  lips — 

With  grave  and  earnest  faces 

Are  whispering  to  each  othei 
Of  presents  for  the  New  Year,  made 

For  father  or  for  mother  ! 
But  no  one  speaks  to  Gretchen, 

And  no  one  hears  her  speak, 
No  breath  of  little  whispers 

Comes  warmly  to  her  cheek. 

No  little  ones  are  round  her  : 
Ah  me  !  that  there  should  be. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  91 

With  SO  much  happhiess  on  earth, 

So  much  of  misery ! 
Surely  they  who  are  blessed 

Should  scatter  blessings  round ; 
As  laden  boughs  in  autumn  fling 

Their  ripe  fruits  to  the  ground. 

The  best  love  man  can  offer 

To  the  God  of  Love,  be  sure, 
Is  kindness  to  his  little  one.% 

And  bounty  to  his  poor ! 
Little  Gretchen,  little  Gretchen, 

Goes  shivering  on  her  way; 
There's  no  one  looketh  out  at  her, 

There's  no  one  bids  her  stay. 

Her  home  is  cold  and  desolate — 

No  smile,  no  food,  no  fire, 
But  children  clamorous  for  bread. 

And  an  impatient  sire; 
So  she  sits  down  in  the  angle 

Where  two  great  houses  meet. 
And  curleth  up  beneath  her. 

For  warmth,  her  little  feet. 


92  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

She  looks  upon  the  cold  wall, 

And  on  the  cold,  cold  sky. 
And  wonders  if  the  shining  stars 

Are  bright  fires  up  on  high  ! 
She  heard  a  clock  strike  slowly 

Up  high  in  a  church  tower, 
With  such  a  sad  and  solemn  tone 

Telling  the  midnight  hour. 

And  she  thought,  as  she  sat  lonely 

And  listened  to  the  chimes. 
Of  wondrous  things  that  she  had  loved 

To  hear  in  bygone  times ; 
She  heard  again  the  stories 

Her  mother  used  to  tell, 
And  the  cradle-songs  she  used  to  sing 

When  summer's  twilight  fell — 

Of  good  men  and  of  angels 

And  of  the  Holy  Child 
Who  was  cradled  in  a  manger, 

All  in  the  winter  wild  ; 
Who  was  poor,  and  cold,  and  hungry. 

And  desolate,  and  lone; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  93 

And  slie  thought  the  singing  told  her 
He  was  ever  with  his  own! 

'^  Oh  if  the  poor  and  hungry 

And  w^eary  ones  are  his, 
How  good  of  him  to  look  on  me 

In  such  a  place  as  this  !'^ 
Colder  it  grows  and  colder, 

But  slie  does  not  feel  it  now, 
For  the  pressure  at  her  heart 

And  the  weight  upon  her  brow. 

But  she  struck  one  little  match 

On  the  wall  so  cold  and  bare, 
That  she  might  look  around  her 

And  see  if  he  was  there  ; 
And  now  the  match  was  kindled, 

And  by  the  light  it  threw 
It  seemed  to  little  Gretehen 

The  wall  was  cleft  in  two ; 

And  she  could  see  the  room  within — 
A  room  all  warm  and  bright, 

With  the  fire  all  red  and  glowing, 
And  the  tapers  all  alight. 


94  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  there  were  kindred  gatliered 
Round  a  table  ri(*hly  spread 

With  heaps  of  goodly  viands — 
Red  wine  and  pleasant  bread 

She  could  smell  the  fragrant  savor, 

She  could  hear  what  they  did  say ; 
Then  all  was  darkness  once  a2:ain — 

The  match  had  burned  away. 
She  struck  another  quickly, 

And  now  she  seemed  to  see, 
Within  the  same  warm  chamber, 

A  glorious  Christmas  tree. 

The  branches  were  all  laden 

With  things  that  children  prize — • 
Nice  gifts  for  boy  and  maiden. 

She  saw  them  with  her  eyes. 
She  almost  seemed  to  touch  them, 

And  join  the  welcome  shout: 
Then  darkness  fell  around  her. 

For  the  little  match  was  out. 

Another,  yet  another,  she 

Has  tried;   they  will  not  light, 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  95 

Till  all  her  little  store  she  took 
And  struck  with  all  her  might. 

And  the  whole  miserable  place 

Was  lighted  with  the  glare, 
And  lo !  there  hung  a  little  child 

Before  her  in  the  air. 
There  w^ere  blood-drops  on  his  forehead, 

And  a  spear-wound  in  his  side, 
And  cruel  nail-prints  in  his  feet 

And  in  his  hands  spread  wide. 

He  looked  on  her  so  gently, 

She  felt  that  he  had  known 
Pain,  hunger,  cold  and  sorrow, 

All  equal  to  her  own. 
He  pointed  to  the  laden  board 

And  to  the  Christmas  tree. 
Then  up  to  the  cold  sky,  and  said, 

^'  Will  Gretchen  come  with  me  ?'^ 

The  poor  child  felt  her  pulses  fall, 

She  felt  her  eyeballs  swim. 
And  a  ringing  sound  was  in  her  ears. 

Like  her  dead  mother's  hymn. 


96  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

She  foklod  both  her  tliiu  cold  hands, 
And  turned  from  that  bright  board, 

And  from  the  goklen  gifts,  and  said, 
''  With  thee— with  thee,  O  Lord  V 

The  chilly  winter  morning 

Breaks  up  in  the  dull  skies. 
O'er  the  city  wrapped  in  vapor, 

On  the  spot  where  Gretchen  lies. 
In  her  scanty,  tattered  garments, 

With  her  back  against  the  wall, 
She  sitteth  cold  and  rigid. 

She  answers  not  their  call. 

They  have  lifted  her  up  fearfully. 
And  shuddered  as  they  said, 

"It  was  a  bitter,  bitter  night — 
The  child  is  frozen  dead  !'' 

The  angels  sang  their  greeting 

For  one  more,  redeemed  from  sin  I 

Men  said,  "  It  was  a  bitter  night; 
Would  no  one  let  her  in  ?" 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  97 

And  they  shuddered  as  they  spoke  of  her, 
And  sighed  :  they  couhl  not  see 

How  much  of  happiness  there  was 
With  so  much  misery. 

Hans  Anderson. 


THE   BLACKBERRY-GIRL 

Why,  Phoebe,  are  you  come  so  soon  ? 

Where  are  your  berries,  child  ? 
You  surely  have  not  sold  them  all — 

You  had  a  basket  piled. 

No,  mother;  as  I  climbed  the  fence 

The  nearest  way  to  town, 
My  apron  caught  upon  the  stake, 

And  so  I  tumbled  down. 

I  scratched  my  arm  and  tore  my  hair, 
But  still  would  not  complain  ; 

And  had  my  blackberries  been  safe, 
Should  not  have  cared  a  grain. 
9 


98  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

But  when  T  saw  them  on  the  ground 

All  scattered  by  my  side, 
I  picked  my  empty  basket  up, 

And  down  I  sat  and  cried. 

Just  then  a  pretty  little  miss 
Chanced  to  be  walking  by; 

She  stopped,  and,  looking  pitiful, 
She  begged  me  not  to  cry. 

Poor  little  girl,  you  fell,  said  she, 

And  must  be  sadly  hurt; 
Oh  no,  I  cried,  but  see  my  fruit 

AH  mixed  with  sand  and  dirt. 

Well,  do  not  grieve  for  that,  said  she; 

Go  home  and  get  some  more : 
Ah  no,  for  I  have  stripped  the  vines — 

These  were  the  last  they  bore. 

My  father,  miss,  is  very  poor, 
And  works  iu  yonder  stall ; 

He  has  so  many  little  ones 
He  cannot  clothe  us  all. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  99 

I  always  longed  to  go  to  church, 

But  I  could  never  go, 
For  when  I  asked  him  for  a  gown, 

He  always  answered,  No. 

There's  not  a  father  in  the  world 
Who  loves  his  children  more; 

I'd  get  you  one  with  all  my  heart, 
But,  Phoebe,  I  am  poor. 

So,  when  the  blackberries  were  ripe, 

He  said  to  me  one  day, 
Phoebe,  if  you  will  take  the  time 

That's  given  you  for  play. 

And  gather  blackberries  enough, 

And  carry  them  to  town, 
To  buy  your  bonnet  and  your  shoes, 

ril  try  to  get  a  gown. 

Oh,  miss,  I  fairly  jumped  for  joy, 

My  spirits  were  so  light ; 
And  so  when  I  had  leave  to  play, 

I  picked  with  all  my  might. 


100  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

1  sold  enough  to  get  my  shoes, 

About  a  week  ago ; 
And  these,  if  they  had  not  been  spilt, 

Would  buy  my  bonnet  too. 

But  now  they're  gone,  they  all  are  gone, 

And  I  can  get  no  more ; 
And  Sundays  I  must  stay  at  home, 

Just  as  I  did  before. 

And,  mother,  then  I  cried  again 

As  hard  as  I  could  cry, 
And  looking  up  I  saw  the  tear 

Was  falling  from  her  eye. 

She  caught  her  bonnet  from  her  head, 
Here  !  here  !  she  cried,  take  this ; 

No,  no  indeed — I  fear  your  ma 
Would  be  offended,  miss. 

Mamma!  no,  never;  she  delights 

All  sor-row  to  beguile. 
And  'tis  the  sweetest  joy  she  feels 

To  make  the  wretched  smile. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  101 

She  taught  me,  when  I  had  enough, 

To  share  it  with  the  poor,    . 
And  never  let  a  needy  child 

Go  empty  from  the  door. 

So  take  it,  for  you  need  not  fear 

OfiFending  her,  you  see ; 
I  have  another  too,  at  home. 

And  one's  enough  for  me. 

So  then  I  took  it ;  here  it  is — 

For  pray  wRat  could  I  do  ? 
And,  mother,  I  shall  love  that  miss 

As  long  as  I  love  you. 


THE   FATHER    OF   THE   FATHERLESS. 

I  KNEW  a  widow  very  poor. 
Who  four  small  children  had  ; 

The  oldest  was  but  six  years  old, 
A  gentle,  modest  lad, 
9» 


102  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  very  hard  this  widow  toiled 

To  feed  her  children  four; 
A  noble  heart  the  mother  had, 

Though  she  was  very  poor. 

To  labor  she  would  leave  her  home ; 

Her  children  must  be  fed  ; 
And  glad  was  she  when  she  could  buy 

A  shilling's  worth  of  bread. 

And  this  was  all  the  children  had 

On  any  day  to  eat ; 
They  drank  their  water,  ate  their  bread, 

But  never  tasted  meat. 

One  day  the  snow^  was  falling  fast, 

And  piercing  was  the  air; 
I  thought  that  I  would  go  and  see 

How  these  poor  children  were. 

Ere  long  I  reached  their  cheerless  home; 

'Twas  searclied  by  every  breeze ; 
AV^hen,  going  in,  the  eldest  child 

I  saw  ui)on  his  knees. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  103 

I  paused  to  listen  to  the  boy ; 

He  never  raised  his  head, 
But  still  went  on  and  said,  ''  Give  us 

This  day  our  daily  bread  V^ 

I  waited  till  the  child  w^as  done, 

Still  listening  as  he  prayed  ; 
And  wdien  he  rose,  I  asked  him,  ''  Why 

That  prayer  he  then  had  said/^ 

^^  Why,  sir,"  said  he,  ^'  this  morning,  when 

My  mother  went  away, 
She  wept  because  she  said  she  had 

No  bread  for  us  to-day. 

^'  She  said  we  children  now  must  starve, 

Our  father  being  dead  ; 
And  then  I  told  her  not  to  cry, 

For  I  would  get  some  bread. 

"  ^  Our  Father  !^  sir,  the  prayer  begins ; 

Which  made  me  think  that  he, 
As  we  have  no  kind  father  here. 

Would  our  kind  Father  be. 


104  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

^^  And  tlien  you  know,  sir,  that  the  prayer 
Asks  God  for  bread  each  day ; 

So  in  the  corner,  sir,  I  went ; 
That  was  wliat  made  me  pray.'^ 

I  quickly  left  that  wretched  room 

And  went  with  fleeting  feet. 
And  very  soon  was  back  again 

With  food  enough  to  eat. 

"  I  thought  God  heard  me  V'  said  the  boy ; 

I  answered  with  a  nod ; 
I  could  not  speak,  but  much  I  thought 

Of  that  boy's  faith  in  God. 

Dr.  Hanks. 


LITTLE   WILLIE  AND   THE  APPLE. 

Little  Willie  stood  under  an  apple-tree 

old— 
The  fruit  was  all  shining  with  crimson  and 

gold; 
Hanging  temptingly  low,  how  he  longed  for 

a  bite, 
Though  he  knew  if  he  took  one,  it  wouldn't 

be  rio;ht ! 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  105 

Said  he,  ^'  I  don't  see  why  my  father  should 

say, 
'  Don't   touch  the  old  apple-tree  Willie,  to- 
day;' 
I  shouldn't  have  thought — now  they're  hang- 
ing so  low- 
When  I  asked  for  just  one,  he  would  answer 
me,  '  ^o !' 

"  He  would  never  find  out  if  I  took  but  just;, 

one; 
And  they  do  look  so  good  shining  out  in  the 

sun ; 
There  are   hundreds  and   hundreds,  and   he 

wouldn't  miss 
So  paltry  a  little  red  apple  as  this.'^ 

He   stretched    forth    his    hand    but   a    low, 

mournful  strain 
Came  wandering  dreamily  over  his  brain  ; 
In  his  bosom  a  beautiful  harp  had  long  laid. 
That  the  angel  of  conscience  quite  frequently 

played. 


106  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

And  he  sung,  ^^Litlle  Willie,  beware!    Oh 

beware ! 
Your  father   has  gone,  but  your  Maker  is 

there ; 
How  sad  you  would  feel,  if  you  heard  tho 

Lord  say, 
^  This  dear  little  boy  stole  an  apple  to-day !'  '^ 

Then  Willie  turned  round,  and  as  still  as  a 

mouse 
•Crept  slowly  and  carefully  into  the  house; 
In  his  own  little  chamber  he  knelt  down  to 

pray 
That  the  Lord  would  forgive  him,  and  please 

not  to  say, 
"Little  AVillie  almost  stole  an  apple  to-day/' 

M.  A.  D. 


A  LOST  DAY. 


CAiiL  that  day  lost  whose  setting  sun 
Sees  at  thy  haiid  no  good  thing  done. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  107 


LITTLE   BESSIE. 


Hug  me  closer,  closer,  mother ; 

Put  your  arms  around  me  tight ; 
I  am  cold  and  tired^  mother ; 

And  I  feel  so  strange  to-night. 
Something  hurts  me  here,  dear  mother, 

Like  a  stone  upon  my  breast; 
Oh  I  wonder,  wonder,  mother, 

Why  it  is  I  cannot  rest. 

All  the  day,  while  you  were  working, 

As  I  lay  upon  my  bed, 
I  was  trying  to  be  patient, 

And  to  think  of  Avhat  you  said ; 
How  the  kind  and  blessed  Jesus 

Loves  his  lambs  to  watch  and  keep ; 
And  I  wished  he'd  come  and  take  me 

In  his  arms,  that  I  might  sleep. 

Just  before  the  lamp  was  lighted, 
Just  before  the  children  came, 

While  the  room  was  very  quiet, 
I  heard  some  one  call  my  name. 


108  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

All  at  once  the  windows  opened  ; 

In  a  field  were  lambs  and  sheep — 
Some  from  out  a  brook  were  drinking, 

Some  vieve  lying  fast  asleep. 

But  I  could  not  see  the  Saviour, 

Though  I  strained  my  eyes  to  see; 
And  I  wondered,  if  he  saw  me, 

If  he'd  speak  to  such  as  me; 
•In  a  moment  I  was  looking 

Ou  a  world  so  bright  and  fair, 
Which  was  full  of  little  children. 

And  they  seemed  so  happy  there. 

They  were  singing,  oh  how  sweetly ! 

Sweeter  songs  I  never  heard  ; 
They  were  singing  sweeter,  mother, 

Than  can  sing  our  little  bird  ; 
And  while  I  my  breath  was  holding,   . 

One  so  bright  upon  me  smiled 
That  I  knew  it  must  be  Jesus, 

And  he  said,  ^'  Come  here,  my  child  !'' 

^^  Come  up  here,  my  little  Bessie — 
Come  up  here  and  live  with  me ; 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  109 

Where  the  children  never  suffer 

But  are  happier  than  you  see  !' 
Then  I  thought  of  all  you  told  me 

Of  that  bright  and  happy  land ; 
I  was  going  when  you  called  me, 

When  you  came  and  kissed  my  hand. 

^^  And  at  first  I  felt  so  sorry 

You  had  called  me;  I  would  go — 
Oh  to  sleep  and  never  suffer ! 

Mother,  don't  be  crying  so  ; 
Hug  me  closer,  closer  mother ! 

Put  your  arms  around  me  tight; 
Oh  how  much  I  love  you,  mother, 

But  I  feel  so  strano;e  to-ni^rht  I'' 

And  the  mother  pressed  her  closer 

To  her  overburdened  breast; 
On  the  heart  so  near  to  breaking, 

Lay  the  heart  so  near  at  rest. 
In  the  solemn  hour  of  midnight. 

In  the  darkness  calm  and  deep, 
Lying  on  her  mother's  bosom, 

Little  Bessie  fell  asleep. 

A.  D.  F.  PvANDOLPH,. 
10 


110  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


THE    STRANGE    CHILD'S   CHRISTMAS. 

There  went  a  stranger  child, 

As  Christmas  eve  closed  in, 
Through    the    streets    of   a    town   whose 
windows  shone 

With  the  warmth  and  light  within. 

It  stopped  at  every  house 

The  Christmas  trees  to  see, 
On  that  festive  night,  when  they  shone  so 
bright. 

And  the  child  sighed  bitterly. 

The  little  child  wept  and  said, 

"  This  night  hath  every  one 
A  Christmas  tree,  that  they  glad  may  be. 

And  I  alone  have  none  l^' 

^^  Ah,  when  I  lived  at  home. 

From  brother's  and  sister's  hand 

I  had  my  share,  but  there's  none  to  care 
For  me  in  the  stran<z:er's  land ! 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  Ill 

a 

"  Will  no  one  let  me  in  ? 

No  presents  I  would  crave, 
But  to  see  the  light,  and  the  tree  all  bright, 

And  the  gifts  the  others  have  V^ 

At  shutters,  and  doors,  and  gate 

She  knocks  with  timid  hand  ; 
But  none  will  mark  where  alone  in  the  dark 

That  little  child  doth  stand ! 

Each  father  brings  home  gifts, 

Each  mother  kind  and  mild; 
There  is  joy  for  all,  but  none  will  call 

And  welcome  that  lonely  child. 

^^  Father  and  mother  are  dead, 

O  Jesus,  kind  and  dear, 
I  have  no  one  now,  there  is  none  but  thou, 

For  I  am  a  stranger  here  V 

The  poor  child  rubs  her  hands. 
All  frozen  and  numbed  with  cold, 

And  draws  round  her  head,  with  shrinking 
dread, 
Her  o;arments  worn  and  old ! 


112  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

But  see  !  another  child     • 

Comes  gliding  through  the  street; 

His  robes  are  white,  in  his  hands  a  light; 
He  speaks,  and  his  voice  is  sweet. 

*^  Once  on  this  earth;  a  child, 

I  lived  as  thou  livest  yet ; 
Though  all  turn  away  from  thee  this  day, 

Yet  I  will  not  forget. 

^'  Each  child  with  equal  love 

I  hold  beneath  my  care, 
In  the  street's  dull  gloom,  in  the  lighted 
room 

I  am  with  them  everywdiere. 

*^  PTere  in  the  darkness  dim, 

I  will  show  thee,  child,  thy  tree; 

Tliose    that    spread     their    light     through 
chambers  bright 
Are  not  so  fair  to  see !'' 

Then  with  his  white  hand  ])oints 
The  Christ-child  to  the  sky  ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  113 

And  lo  !  ajar,  with  each  lamp  a  star, 
A  tree  gleamed  there  on  high. 

So  far,  and  yet  so  near, 

The  lights  shone  overhead  ; 
And  all  was  well,  for  the  child  could  tell 

For  whom  that  tree  was  spread. 

She  gazed  as  in  a  dream. 

And  angels  bent  and  smiled ; 
And  with  outstretched  hand  to  that  bright- 
er land 

They  carried  the  stranger  child. 

And  the  little  one  went  home. 

With  her  Saviour  Christ  to  stay ; 
All  the  hunger  and  cold  and  the  pain  of 

old 
-    Forgotten  and  passed  away. 

From  the  German. 
10  * 


114  GOLDEN    SONGS. 


THE    BLIND    BOY. 


It  was  a  blessed  summer's  clay, 

The  flow'rets  bloomed,  the  air  was  mild  ; 
The  little  birds  poured  forth  their  lay, 

And  everything  in  nature  smiled. 

In  pleasant  thought  I  wandered  on 
Beneath  the  deep  wood's  ample  shade, 

Till  suddenly  I  came  upon 

Two  children  that  had  hither  strayed. 

Just  at  an  aged  birch  tree's  foot 
A  little  girl  and  boy  reclined; 

His  hand  in  hers  she  kindly  put, 
And  then  I  saw  the  boy  was  blind. 

^^Dear  ]\Iary,"  said  the  poor  blind  boy, 
'*  That  little  bird  sings  very  long  ; 

Say,  do  you  see  him  in  his  joy  ? 
And  is  he  pretty  as  his  song  ?'' 

'^  Yes,  Edward,  yes,"  replied  the  maid; 
*^  I  sec  the  bird  on  yonder  tree:" 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  115 

The  poor  boy  sighed  and  gently  said, 
^'  Sister,  I  wish  that  I  could  see ! 

"  The  flowers,  you  say,  are  very  fair. 

And  bright  green  leaves  are  on  the  trees, 

And  pretty  birds  are  singing  there  : 
How  beautiful  for  one  who  sees  ! 

"  Yet  I  the  fragrant  flowers  can  smell, 
And  I  can  feel  the  green  leaf^s  shade; 

And  I  can  hear  the  notes  that  swell 

From  those  dear  birds  that  God  has  made. 

''  So,  sister,  he  to  me  is  kind. 

Though  sight,  alas  !  he  has  not  given  ; 
But  tell  me,  are  there  any  blind 

Among  the  children  up  in  heaven  f^ 

"  No,  dearest  Edward,  there,  all  see ; 

But  wherefore  ask  a  thing  so  odd  ?'^ 
^^Oh,  Mary,  he's  so  good  to  me, 

I  thoudit  rd  like  to  look  at  God/' 


116  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


THE    HEAVENLY    FATHER. 

Within  a  town  of  Holland  once 

A  Avidow  dwelt,  'tis  said  ; 
So  poor,  alas !  her  children  asked 

One  night  in  vain  for  bread  ; 
But  this  poor  woman  loved  the  Lord, 

And  knew  that  he  was  good ; 
So,  with  her  little  ones  around, 

She  prayed  to  him  for  food. 
When  ])rayer  was  done,  her  eldest  child — 

A  boy  of  eight  years  old — 
Said  softly,  ^^  In  the  Holy  Book, 

Dear  mother,  Ave  are  told 
How  God,  with  food  by  ravens  brought, 

Supplied  his  prophet's  need." 
^'  Yes,"  answered  she,  '^  but  that,  my  son, 

Was  long  ago  indeed  !" 

''  But,  motlier,  God  may  do  again 

What  he  has  done  before  ! 
And  so,  to  let  the  birds  fly  in, 

I  will  unclose  the  door." 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  117 

Then  little  Dirk,  in  simple  faith, 

Threw  open  the  door  full  wide, 
So  that  the  radiance  of  their  lamp 

Fell  on  the  path  outside. 

Ere  long  the  burgomaster  passed, 

And,  noticing  the  light, 
Paused  to  inquire  why  the  door 

Was  open  so  at  night. 
^'  My  little  Dirk  has  done  it,  sir,'' 

The  widow  smiling  said, 
"  That  ravens  might  fly  in,  to  bring 

My  hungry  children  bread.'' 

*^  Indeed  !"  the  burgomaster  cried ; 

"  Then  here's  a  raven,  lad ; 
^^  Come  to  my  home  and  you  shall  see 

Where  bread  may  soon  be  had." 
Along  the  street  to  his  own  house 
"■t^  He  quickly  led  the  boy. 
And  sent  him  back  with  food,  that  filled 

This  humble  home  with  joy. 


118  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

The  supper  ended,  little  Dirk 

Went  to  the  open  door, 
Looked   up   and  said,   "  Many   thanks,  good 

Lord  r 

Then  shut  it  fast  once  more ; 
For,  thougli  no  bird  had  entered  in, 

He  knew  that  God  on  liigh 
Had  hearkened  to  his  mother's  prayers, 

And  sent  tliis  full  supply. 


THE    CHILDHOOD    OF    JESUS. 

In  the  green  fields  of  Palestine, 
By  its  fountains  and  its  rills, 

And  by  the  flowing  Jordan's  stream, 
And  o'er  the  vine-clad  hills. 


Once  lived  and  roved  the  fairest  child 
That  ever  blessed  the  earth — 

The  happiest  and  the  holiest 
That  e'er  had  human  birth. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  119 

How  beautiful  his  childhood  was, 

Harmless  and  undefiled  ! 
Oh  dear  to  his  young  mother's  heart 

Was  this  pure,  sinless  child. 

Kindly  in  all  his  deeds  and  Avords, 

And  gentle  as  the  dove, 
Obedient,  affectionate, 

His  very  soul  was  love. 

Oh,  is  it  not  a  blessed  thought. 

Children  of  human  birth. 
That  once  the  Saviour  was  a  child 

And  lived  upon  the  earth? 


RINGING    THE    BELL, 

OR   DOING  SOMETHING   FOR   GOD. 

A  MISSIONARY  far  away 
Beyond  the  Southern  Sea, 

Was  sitting  in  the  house  one  day, 
His  Bible  on  his  knee. 


120  GOLDEN   SOXGS 

When  suddenly  he  heard  a  rap 

Upon  his  chamber  door; 
And  opening,  there  stood  a  boy 

Of  some  ten  vears  or  more. 

»i 

^^Dear  sir!''  he  said  in  native  tongue, 

^^I  do  so  want  to  know 
If  sometliing  for  the  house  of  God 
.     You'll  kindly  let  me  do?'' 

^^  What  can  you  do,  my  little  boy?" 

The  missionary  said, 
And  as  he  spoke  he  laid  his  hand 

Upon  the  youthful  head. 

Then  bashfully,  as  if  afraid 

His  secret  wish  to  tell, 
The  boy  in  eager  accents  said, 

''  Oh  let  me  ring  the  bell !" 

^^  Oh  please  to  let  me  ring  the  bell 
For  our  dear  house  of  prayer ; 

I'm  sure  I'll  ring  it  loud  and  well, 
And  I'll  be  always  there." 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  121 

The  missionary  kindly  spoke; 

The  boy  had  pleaded  well, 
And  to  the  eager  chikl  he  said, 

^^  Yes,  you  shall  ring  the  bell/' 

Oh  what  a  joyful,  happy  heart 

He  carried  to  his  home ! 
And  how  impatiently  he  longed 

For  the  Sabbath-day  to  come ! 

He  rang  the  bell,  he  went  to  school, 

The  Bible  learned  to  read  ; 
And  ill  his  youthful  heart  was  sown 

The  gospel's  precious  seed. 

And  now  to  other  heathen  lands 
Hfe's  gone,  of  Christ  to  tell ; 

And  yet  his  first  young  mission  was 
To  rins;  the  Sabbath-bell. 


THE    LITTLE   ANGEL 

Right  into  our  house  one  day 

A  dear  little  angel  came; 
I  ran  to  him  and  said  softly, 

*^  Little  angel,  what  is  your  name?'' 
11 


122  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

He  said  not  a  word  in  answer, 
But  he  smiled  a  beautiful  smile; 

Then  I  said,  ^^  May  I  go  home  with  you? 
Shall  you  go  in  a  little  while  V^ 

But  mamma  said,  ^^Dear  little  angel, 
Don't  leave  us — oh  always  stay; 

We  will  all  of  us  love  you  dearly, 
Sweet  angel — oh  don^t  go  away.'^ 

So  he  stayed,  and  he  stayed,  and  we  loved 
him 

As  we  could  not  have  loved  another ; 
"Do  you  want  to  know  what  his  name  is? 

His  name  is  my  little  brother  !'^ 


READY    FOR    DUTY. 

Daffy-down-dilly  came  up  in  the  cold, 

Through  the  brown  mould  ; 
Although   the  March   breezes  blew  keen  on 

her  face. 
Although    the   white   snow   lay   on    many  a 

place, 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  123 

Daffy-clown-dilly  had  heard  under  ground 
The  sweet  rushing  sound 

Of  the  streams,  as  they  burst  off  their  white 
winter  chains, 

Of  the  whistling  spring  winds  and  the  patter- 
ing rains. 


^^Now,  then,''  tliought  Daffy,  deep  down  in 

her  heart, 
"It's  time  I  should  start;'' 
So  she  pushed   her  soft  leaves  through  the 

hard  frozen  ground, 
Quite  up  to  the  surface,  and  then  she  looked 

round. 


There  was  snow  all  about  her,  gray  clouds 

overhead, 
The  trees  all  looked  dead ; 
Then   how  do   you   think   Daffy-down-dilly 

felt, 
When  the  sun  would  not  shine  and  the  ice 

would  not  melt  ? 


124  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

^^Cokl  weather!"  thought  Daffy,  still  work- 
ing aw^ay ; 
^'The  earth's  hard  to-day; 

There's  but  a  half  iiieh  of  my  leaves  to  be 
seen, 

And  two-thirds  of  that  is  more  yellow  than 
green. 

"  I  can't  do  mnch  yet,  but  I'll  do  what  I  can  ; 
^         It's  well  I  began  ; 
For  unless  I  can  manage  to  lift  up  my  head, 
The  people  will  think  that  the  Spring  her- 
self's  dead." 

So,  little  by  little  she  brought  her  leaves  out, 

All  clustered  about; 
And  then  her  bright  flowers  began  to  unfold, 
Till  Daffy  stood   robed  in  her  spring  green 
and  gold. 

Oh,  Daffy-down-dilly,  so  brave  and  so  true; 

I  wish  all  were  like  you; 
So  ready  for  duty  in  all  sorts  of  weather. 
And    holding   forth   courage  and    beauty  to- 
gether. 

Mdss  Warner. 


b 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  125 


A   CHILD'S    DREAM    OF   HEAVEN. 

Dear  mother,  I  dreamed  about  heaven; 

I  stood  at  the  pearly  gate ; 
I  lifted  iiiy  little  hands  to  knock, 

But  they  did  not  let  me  wait. 

It  slowly  swung  on  its  golden  hinge ; 

And  I  saw  two  angels  stand, 
Dressed  in  the  softest,  purest  white, 

One  upon  either  hand. 

They  held  two  beautiful  harps,  mother. 

Of  shining  glittering  gold  ; 
Which  one  played  the  sweeter, 

I'm  sure  I  could  not  have  told. 

And  the  sono;  thev  sano;  was,  ^^  Welcome, 

Oh  welcome,  little  child; 
Fear  not  to  enter  heaven's  gate. 

Washed  clean  and  undefiled.'* 

And  so  I  fearless  Walked  inside, 

And  oh  it  was  lovelier  far 
Than  any  garden  I  ever  saw ; 

Each  flower  shone  like  a  star. 

11* 


126  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  tlie  trees  all  rustled  in  musio; 

Eaeh  leaf  sang  its  little  song; 
It  sounded  like  the  church  organ, 

Sweetly  solemn  and  strong. 

And  I  saw  a  beautiful  fountain, 

That  fell  like  rippling  light; 
Even  the  beams  of  the  moon,  mother. 

Are  not  so  dazzlingly  bright 

Around  it  played  little  children; 

All  looked  happy  and  smiled ; 
I  did  not  see  an  angry  look 

On  the  face  of  any  child. 

And  thus  I  wandered  a  long,  long  time; 

No  unkind  sound  I  heard ; 
They  were  gen  tie  and  sweet  as  sweet  could  be, 

And  love  was  in  every  word. 

I  spoke  to  the  little  children, 
And  asked  *^  If  I  might  stay, 

Hearing  the  beautiful  music, 
Watching  the  fountains  play." 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  127 

But  they  said,  '^The  daylight  cometh, 
When  you  must  go  back  to  earth; 

But,  if  you  are  good  and  gentle 
And  innocent  in  your  mirth ; 

"If  you  do  not  strike  your  playmates, 

Or  say  an  unkind  word, 
And  put  down  the  ugly  feelings 

That  may  in  your  heart  be  stirred, 

^*  Some  time  a  beautiful  angel. 

With  wMngs  of  snowy,  white. 
Will  bear  you  up  in  his  powerful  arms 

To  our  dear  Lord's  garden  of  light. 

"  And  here  you  can  stay  for  ever. 

In  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
And  bathe  in  the  life-giving  fountains 

According  to  his  word." 

And  then  I  woke  right  up,  mother; 

But  I'm  going  to  try  to  be 
All  that  the  little  children  said. 

So  that  God  mav  send  for  me. 

Julie  Leonard. 


128  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


MOTHER'S    LAST   WORDS. 

PART    FIRST. 

The  yellow  fog  lay  thick  and  dim 
O'er  London  city,  far  and  wide ; 

It  filled  the  spacious  parks  and  squares, 
Where  noble  lords  and  ladies  ride. 

It  filled  the  streets,  the  shops  were  dark, 
The  gas  was  burning  through  the  day 

The  Monument  was  blotted  out, 
And  lost  in  gloom  the  river  lay. 

But  thicker  still,  and  darker  far, 

The  noisome  smoke-cloud  grimly  fell 

Amongst  the  narrow  courts  and  lanes 
Where  toiling  people  poorly  dwell. 

No  sun  above,  no  lofty  sky, 
No  breezy  breath  of  living  air, 

Tlie  heavy,  stagnant,  stifling  fog 

Crept  here  and  there  and  everywhere. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  129 

Down  seven  steep  and  broken  stairs 
Its  chilly  unwelcome  way  it  found, 

And  darkened  with  a  deeper  gloom 
A  low,  damp  chamber  under  ground. 

A  glimmering  light  was  burning  there 

Beside  a  woman  on  a  bed — 
A  worn-out  woman,  ghastly  pale — 

Departing  to  the  peaceful  dead. 

Two  little  boys,  in  threadbare  clothes, 
Stood,  pale  and  trembling,  by  her  side; 

And  listening  to  his  mother's  words. 
The  younger  of  them  sadly  cried. 

The  elder  boy  shed  not  a  tear, 

Nor  stirred  a  moment  from  his  place, 

But  with  a  corner  of  the  sheet 

He  wiped  his  mother's  cold,  damp  face. 

^'  Ah,  John  !''  she  said,  ^^  my  own  dear  boy, 
You'll  soon  be  in  this  world  alone  ;r 
But  you  must  do  the  best  you  can, 
And  be  good  children  when  I'm  gone. 


130  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

"  And  listen,  John  ;  before  ^tis  night 
My  weary  spirit  will  be  free; 
Then  go  and  tell  the  overseer, 
For  he  must  come  to  bury  me. 

"  You'll  walk  behind  my  coffin,  dears; 
There's  little  more  I  have  to  crave; 
But  I  should  like  to  have  my  boys 
Just  drop  a  tear  beside  my  grave. 

"  And  then  you'll  have  to  leave  this  room, 
Because  the  rent  is  not  all  paid; 
Since  I've  been  ill  I've  let  it  run ; 

You  know  I've  barely  earned  your  bread. 

"  I  don't  owe  mucli ;  I've  minded  that, 

And  paid  it  up,  though  hardly  pressed; 
The  man  must  take  the  little  things, 
And  sell  the  bed  to  pay  the  rest. 

'^  I've  mended  np  your  bits  of  clothes ; 
It  is  not  much  you've  left  to  wear. 
But  keep  as  decent  as  you  can, 

And  don't  neglect  the  house  of  prayer. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  131 

'^  I  can't  speak  of  your  father,  John  ; 

You  know  that  he  has  been  my  death ; 
If  he  comes  back  you'll  say  his  wife 
Forgave  him  with  her  dying  breath. 

"  But  oh,  my  cliiUh^en !  when  I'm  gone, 
Do  mind  your  mother's  warning  well, 
And  shun  all  drinking,  swearing  ways, 
As  you  would  shun  the  pit  of  hell. 

^^  I'm  going  to  a  happy  place, 

So  beautiful  and  dazzlino;  brio-ht ; 
'Twas  in  a  vision  or  a  dream 

It  passed  before  me  in  tlie  night. 

"  I  felt  ray  spirit  caught  away 

From  all  the  crowd  of  toiling  folk^ 
Above  the  cross  upon  St.  Paul's, 
And  far  above  the  fog  and  smoke. 

^^  And  higher,  higher  up  I  went, 
Until  I  reached  a  golden  gate, 
Where  all  about  in  shining  rows 
I  saw  the  holv^  anirels  wait. 


132  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

*^  At  oiiee  they  bade  me  welcome  tliere, 
And  all  at  once  began  to  sing, 
^Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord, 
For  thou  art  welcome  to  the  King/ 

"  Then  one  stepped  forth,  and  took  my  hand, 
And  spake  like  music,  passing  sweet: 
^  We  have  been  watching  for  thee  long, 
To  bring  thee  to  our  Master's  feet/ 

'^Then,  hand  in  hand,  we  floated  on 

Through  glowing  fields  of  lovely  flowers, 
And  saw  ten  thousand  happy  souls 
At  rest  among  the  shining  bowers. 

^^Our  Saviour  walked  among  them,  John  ; 
Most  beautiful  he  was  to  see. 
And  such  a  heavenly  smile  he  gave 
When  first  he  saw  poor  worthless  me. 

^' And  oh  the  gracious  things  he  spoke, 
I  hardly  couUl  believe  the  word; 
'Come  in,  thou  faithful  one,'  he  said, 
*  And  rest  thee  now  beside  thy  Lord.' 


GOLDEX   S0XG3.  133 

"Then  all  around  I  heard  the  sound 
Of  joyous  voices  singing  praise, 
And  I  stood  there  and  joined  the  song, 
And  looked  upon  his  blessed  face. 

"  And  as  I  looked  my  heart  grew  strong. 
And  then  I  fell  before  his  ieet ; 
^  Dear  Lord/  I  said,  '  I  pray  thee  send 
An  angel  to  our  wicked  street. 

"Tve  left  two  little  boys  behind, 

To  get  through  this  bad  world  alone, 

And  much  I  fear  they'll  miss  their  way, 

And  never  reach  thy  glorious  throne.' 

"^I  v/il!,'  he  said;  and  then  he  called 
A  beauteous  angel  by  his  name, 
And  swifter  than  an  arrow  flics 

That  beauteous  angel  to  him  came. 

"And  as  I  knelt  before  his  feet 

I  heard  the  order  plainly  given, 
That  he  should  guard  my  little  boys 
And  bring  them  safe  to  me  in  heaven. 

12 


134  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

"  I  saw  the  angel  bow  his  head 

And  east  on  me  a  look  of  love, 
Then  spread  his  snowy  wings  to  leave 
His  blissful  seat  in  heaven  above. 

^'  So  do  not  fret  about  my  death ; 
I  know  you'll  not  be  left  alone, 
For  God  will  send  the  angel  down 
To  care  for  you  when  I  am  gone. 

"  I'm  sure  you  will  liave  daily  bread ; 

For  that  the  King  gave  strict  command, 
And  all  the  wealth  of  Ijondon  town 
Is  in  the  power  of  his  hand. 

^^  So  never  join  wuth  wicked  lads 

To  steal,  and  swear,  and  drink,  and  lie; 
For,  though  you  are  but  orphans  here, 
You'll  have  a  Father  in  the  sky. 

'^  I  can't  see  plain  what  you  should  do, 

But  God,  I  think,  will  make  your  way ; 
So  don't  go  to  the  workhouse,  dears, 
But  try  for  work,  and  always  pray." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  135 

The  woman  ceased  and  closed  her  eves, 
And  long  she  lay  as  if  at  rest ; 

Then  opened  wide  her  feeble  arms 

And  clasped  her  children  to  her  breast. 

And  then  aloft  her  hands  she  raised, 
And  heavenward  gazed  with  beaming  eyes : 
*^  I  see,  I  see,  the  angel  come — 

I  see  him  coming  from  the  skies. 

^•Good-bye,  good-bye,  my  children  dear; 
My  happy  soul  is  caught  away ; 
I  hear,  I  hear  my  Saviour  call — 
He  calls  me  up,  I  cannot  stay.^^ 

Then  soared  her  soul  from  that  dark  room — 
Above  the  crowd  of  toiling  folk, 

Above  the  cross  upon  St.  Paul's, 
Above  the  fog,  above  the  smoke. 

And  higher,  higher  up  she  went, 

Until  she  saw  the  golden  gate 
Where  night  and  day,  in  shining  bands, 

The  holy  angels  watch  and  wait. 


136  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  she  went  in  and  saw  tlie  Kino-, 

And  heard  the  gracious  words  he  spoke 

To  her,  who  in  this  sinful  worhl 
Had  meekly  borne  her  daily  yoke. 

But  sadly  sobbed  the  little  boys. 

As  from  tlie  bed  of  death  they  crept; 
Upon  the  floor  they  sat  them  down, 

And  long  and  piteously  they  wept. 

The  dreary  walls  around  them  closed; 

No  father  came  to  share  their  grief; 
Ko  friendly  neighbor  heard  their  cry, 

None  came  with  pity  or  relief. 

They  cried  until  their  tears  were  spent, 
And  darker  still  the  chamber  grew; 

And  then  said  little  Christopher, 

^*  Now,  mother's  dead,  what  shall  we  do  ?'' 

Then  John  rose  up,  and  with  his  sleeve 
He  wij)ed  away  the  last  sad  tear : 

"  Well,  we  must  go,  as  mother  said, 
And  tell  the  parish  overseer.'^ 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  137 

^^  But  won't  the  angel  come  to  us  V' 
^'  I  cannot  tell  you/^  John  replied; 

"I  think  he  will/'  said  Christoj^her ; 

^*  My  mother  saw  him  when  she  died/' 

They  stumbled  up  the  broken  stairs. 
And  pushed  their  way  along  the  street, 

Whilst  out  of  sight  an  angel  bright 
Walked  close  behind  with  shining  feet. 

He  stood  beside  them  at  the  door, 
And  heard  the  growling  overseer; 

Then  touched  his  heart  with  sudden  smart, 
And  brought  an  unexpected  tear. 

"Here,  lads,"  he  said,  "divide  this  bread; 
You  both  look  hungry,  any  way ; 
We'll  see  about  the  body,  child, 
And  bury  it  on  Wednesday." 

The  hungry  children  ate  the  loaf. 
And  then  the  younger  brother  said, 
^^  Our  mother  told  us  right,  you  see ; 
That  was  all  true  about  the  bread." 
12*  ^ 


138  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

*^  It  does  seem  so/'  was  John's  reply ; 
"  I  say,  Chris,  sha'n't  you  be  afraid 
To  go  and  sleep  at  home  to-night, 

All  in  the  dark  there  with  the  dead  ?" 

"Why  should  we,  John?     Dead  folks  don't 
hurt; 
She  would  not  hurt  us,  if  she  could ; 
And  as  she  laid  upon  the  bed 

She  looked  so  happy  and  so  good !" 

"  Well,  come  down,  then — I'm  not  afraid ;" 
They  entered  in  and  shut  the  door, 
And  made  a  bed  as  best  they  could. 
And  laid  them  down  upon  the  floor. 

And  soundly  slept  those  little  boys, 
And  dreamt  about  a  far-off  land, 

With  shining  bowers  and  lovely  flowers, 
And  angels  flying  at  command. 

Tliey'd  never  been  beyond  the  town 
To  see  the  beauteous  works  of  God, 

Not  even  seen  the  daisies  spring 
By  thousands  on  the  level  sod. 
*4 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  139 

They  had  not  seen  a  robin's  nest, 
Nor  plucked  a  violet  in  the  shade^ 

Kor  stood  beside  a  running  brook 

And  iieard  the  pleasant  sound  it  made. 

They  had  not  seen  young  lambs  at  phiy, 
Xor  gleaned  among  the  autumn  sheaves, 

Nor  listened  to  the  pattering  sound 
Of  falling  rain  upon  the  leaves. 

The  cuckoo's  note  was  strange  to  them ; 

They'd  never' heard  a  wild  bird  sing, 
Nor  seen  the  yellow  cowslip  grow 

About  the  meadows  in  the  spring. 

Nor  had  they  run  with  rosy  boys 
At  early  morning  to  the  school, 

Nor  spent  the  pleasant  holidays 
In  catching  minnows  in  the  pool. 

Ah,  no !  and  yet  they  were  not  left 

With  naught  but   death   and    darkness 
there; 

A  minister  of  love  was  sent 

In  answer  to  their  mother's  prayer. 


140  golden"  songs. 

But  little  thought  those  orphan  boys, 
When  to  their  wretched  bed  they  crept, 

That  all  the  nii>:ht  an  ano-el  bnVht 

Would  watch  beside  them  as  they  slept. 

AVhen  dimly  dawned  the  light  they  rose; 

Chris    looked   around    with    chattering 
teeth ; 
The  sheet  was  spread  from  foot  to  head ; 

He  knew  his  mother  lay  beneath. 

^^  Let's  go  out  to  the  pump  and  wash. 
As  she  would  always  have  us  do ; 
We'd  better  mind  about  her  words, 

I  think,"  said  John ;  "  Chris,  what  say 
you?" 

^^  Let's  go,"  said  Chris ;  ''  besides,  you  know, 
We've  got  our  breakfast  now  to  find  :" 
They  went  out  in  the  narrow  street; 
The  shining  angel  went  beliind. 

A  woman  at  the  baker's  shop, 

Wlio  knew  the  children  of  the  dead, 

Was  touched  with  pity  as  tliey  passed, 
And  gave  them  each  a  roll  of  bread. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  141 

"  Tis  true/'  said  little  Christopher ; 

''  Yuu  may  be  sure  the  angel's  come; 
She  never  gave  us  bread  before — 
No,  not  the  value  of  a  crumb.'^ 

The  next  day,  and  the  next  to  that, 
The  promise  of  the  King  was  kept, 

And  every  night  that  angel  bright 
Stood  by  to  guard  them  as  they  slept. 

On  Wednesday  the  people  came 

And  took  the  woman's  corpse  away ; 

Two  little  mourners  walked  behind, 
And  saw  the  grave  wherein  it  lay. 

Fast  fell  the  tears  upon  their  cheeks, 
AVhen  little  Christy  raised  his  eyes, 

And  said,  ''  Oh,  mother,  how  I  wish 
I  were  with  you  above  the  skies!'' 

'Twas  but  a  thought  passed    through  his 
mind, 
When  soft  a  whisper  seemed  to  come, 
'^Be  patient,  little  Christopher; 

You  are  not  very  far  from  home.'' 


142  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

The  minister  said,  ^^  Dust  unto  dust;" 
And  then  the  poor  boys  left  the  place — 

Two  friendless  boys  in  London  town, 
Oh  was  not  theirs  a  hapless  case  ? 

They  ^vandered  up  and  down  the  streets, 
And  then  went  home  to  sleep  once  more, 

And  in  the  morning  left  the  room, 

And  took  the  key  and  locked  the  door. 

They  found  the  landlord  at  his  house, 
And  said,  '^  Please,  sir,  our  mother's  dead; 

She  could  not  pay  up  all  the  rent, 
And  we  have  got  to  earn  our  bread. 

"  But  please,  sir,  we  have  brought  the  key, 
And  left  some  things  upon  the  shelf; 
And  there's  the  blanket  and  the  bed ; 

My  mother  thought  youM  pay  yourself.'^ 

^^  And  so  she\s  gone,"  the  landlord  said, 
^'  And  you  are  left  to  face  the  strife? 
Well,  I  will  say  I  never  knew 
A  better  woman  in  my  life. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  143 

"  Of  course  I'll  take  the  things,  my  boy, 
For  right  is  right,  and  so  I  must ; 
But  there's  a  shilling  for  you  both  : 

You'll  find  it  hard  to  earn  your  crust.'^ 

They  thanked  the  man  and  left  the  house ; 

^a'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  John; 
^^  This  shilling  here  will  buy  a  broom; 

We'll  sweep  a  crossing  of  our  own. 

"  We  won't  go  to  the  workhouse,  Chris, 
But  act  like  men  and  do  our  best; 
Our  mother  said,  ^  A  crust,  well  earned, 
Is  sweeter  than  a  pauper's  feast.^  '^ 

^^  Oh  yes ;  we'll  work  like  honest  boys, 
And  if  our  mother  should  look  down. 
She'd  like  to  see  us  with  a  broom 
And  with  a  crossing  of  our  own.'^ 

Away  they  went  wuth  anxious  hopes. 
And  long  they  hunted  here  and  there, 

Until  they  found  a  dirty  place 

Not  very  far  from  Leicester  Square. 


144  golde:n'  songs. 

And  here  at  once  they  took  tlieir  stand, 
And  swept  a  pathway  broad  and  neat, 

Where  ladies  in  their  silken  gowns 
Might  cross  and  hardly  soil  their  feet. 

The  people  hurried  to  and  fro, 

And  midst  the  jostle,  jar  and  noise, 

And  thinking  of  their  own  affairs, 
They  hardly  saw  the  little  boys. 

Not  so  with  all ;  some  caught  a  sight 
Of  little  Christy's  anxious  eyes, 

And  put  a  penny  in  his  cap, 
And  every  penny  was  a  prize. 

At  last  the  streets  began  to  clear, 

And  people  dropped  off,  one  by  one ; 
"Let's  go,''  said  little  Christopher; 

"  My  pocket  is  quite  heavy,  John." 

They  counted  up  the  pence  with  glee. 
And  went  away  to  buy  some  bread, 

And  had  a  little  left  to  pay 
For  lodging  in  a  decent  bed. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  145 

Next  clay  John  kept  his  crossing  clean, 
Swept  olF  the  mud  and  left  it  dry, 

And  little  Christy  held  his  cap,      "^ 
But  did  not  tease  the  passers-by. 

And  many  a  one  a  penny  gave 

Who  marked  the  pale  child^s  modest  way: 
Thus  they'd  a  shilling  left  in  hand 

When  they  went  home  on  Saturday. 

The  woman  at  the  baker's  shop, 
In  kind  remembrance  of  the  dead, 

Had  found  the  boys  a  lodging-place 
Where  they  could  have  a  decent  bed, 

"Let's  go  to  church/'  said  Christopher; 
'^  She'd  be  so  glad  to  see  us  there ; 
You  recollect  she  often  said, 

^  Boys,  don't  forget  the  house  of  prayer  !'  '^ 

"We're  very  shabby,"  John  replied, 
"  And  hardly  fit  for  such  a  place ; 
But  I  will  do  the  best  I  can 

To  polish  up  my  hands  and  face.'^ 

13 


146  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

Clear  rang  the  bells  that  Sabbath  morn 
As  they  went  briskly  up  the  street; 

And -out  of  sight  the  angel  bright 

Walked  close  behind  with  shining  feet. 

Some  idle  boys,  who  played  about, 

Threw  stones  and  mocked  as  they  went  in ; 
^'  Ay,  let  them  mock  aw^ay,''  said  John  : 
"  We  need  not  care  for  them  a  pin.'^ 

A  lady  watched  them  as  they  sat, 
And  when  the  service  all  was  done, 

Said,  "  Do  you  go  to  Sunday-school?'^ 
^'  No,  ma'am,  but  we  should  like,"  said 

John. 

She  told  them  both  the  place  and  time ; 

They  went  that  afternoon  to  school ; 
The  boys  were  playing  in  the  street. 

And  said  to  John,  *^  You  are  a  fool — 

"To  go  to  that  old  stupid  place; 

We  know  a  trick  worth  two  of  that:" 
Said  John,  *^  I  mean  to  be  a  man. 
And  that's  the  trick  I'm  aiming:  at." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  147 

PART   SECOND. 

The  second  week  was  bleak  and  cold, 
A  drizzling  rain  fell  day  by  day, 

And  with  their  wet  umbrellas  up 
The  people  harried  on  their  way. 

And  no  one  thought  about  the  boys, 
•    Who  patiently  stood  sweeping  there; 
And  sometimes  over  Christy's  face 
There  fell  a  shade  of  blank  despair. 

Discouraged,  wet  and  weary  oft. 

Cold,  shivering  to  their  bed  they  crept; 

But  still  all  night,  that  angel  bright 
Stood  by  to  guard  them  as  they  slept. 

And  these  poor  boys  would  sleep  as  well 
As  rich  men  on  their  beds  of  down, 

And  wake  up  with  a  ligliter  heart 

Than  many  a  king  who  wears  a  crown. 

But  winter-time  came  on  apace. 
And  colder  still  the  weather  grew, 


148  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  when  they  left  the  street  at  night 
Their  clothes  were  often  wet  quite  through. 

Their  coats  were  almost  worn  to  rags, 
Their  bare  feet  rested  on  the  stones ; 

But  still  they  ahvays  went  to  church, 
And  to  the  school  on  afternoons. 

And  never  joined  with  wicked  boys, 
.  And  never  stopped  away  to  play, 
But  tried  to  do  their  very  best, 

And  swept  the  crossing  every  day. 

One  day  a  boy  came  up  and  said, 

^'  I  know  a  dodge  worth  two  of  that; 

Just  take  to  picking  pockets,  lad, 

Arid  don't  hold  out  that  ra^-cved  hat.'' 


-*feo^ 


^^  What,  steal!"  said  little  Christopher; 
"  Our  dodge  is  twice  as  good  as  that ; 
We  earn  our  bread  like  honest  folks;" 
And  so  he  answered  tit-for-tat. 

**  Well,  that's  your  own  lookout,  of  course; 
For  my  part,  I  don't  see  the  fun 


GOLDEN    SONGS.  149 

Of  starving  at  this  crossing  here, 
When  money  is  so  easy  won/^ 


^^  How  do  you  manage  that  ?'^  said  John. 
^'  Oh !    come  with   us,  w^e'U   have   you 
taught ; 
YouVe  but  a  trick  or  two  to  learn — 
To  grip  the  things,  and  not  be  caught." 

'^But  if  you  should  be  caught?"  said  John, 
'*  The  end  of  that  would  spoil  your  fun," 

"  Oh  we  know  how  to  manage  that ; 

Come  on !  I'll  show  you  how  'tis  done." 

''  What  do  you  get  to  eat  ?"  said  John, 

Who  pondered  on  these  boasting  words. 

''  What  get  to  eat ! — ^just  what  we  choose — 
We  eat  and  drink  away  like  lords. 

"  Xow,  what  d'ye  say?    Make  up  your  mind ; 
I'm  waited  for,  and  must  be  gone, 
We've  pretty  work  to-day  on  hand." 
''  Well,  I  sha'n't  help  to-day,"  said  John. 

13  * 


150  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

'^  The  more  fool  you/'  replied  the  boy, 

And  went  off  whistling  down  the  street; 
And  black  as  night  a  wicked  sprite 
Went  after  hiin  Avith  rapid  feet. 

John  went  back  slowly  to  his  place, 
And  grumbling  to  himself  he  said, 
**  I  half  repent  I  did  not  go, 

It  is  so  hard  to  earn  one's  bread. 

"  I  dare  say  he  gets  in  a  day 

As  much  as  we  earn  in  a  week ; 
I  wish  I'd  gone."     John  muttered  this  ; 
To  Christopher  he  did  not  speak. 

At  night,  as  he  went  sauntering  home. 
He  loitered  round  a  pastry-cook's. 

Till  Christy  called,  "John,  come  along; 
You'll  cat  the  cakes  up  with  your  looks !" 

^*  Well,  Chris,  I  say  'tis  very  hard 

We  never  have  good  things  to  eat ; 
I'm  tired  of  eating  just  that  bread; 
I  lon^r  for  somethino;  nice  and  sweet." 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  151 

^^They  do  look  nice/^  said  little  Chris, 

And  lingered  near  with  hankering  eyes; 

^'  Which  would  you  have,  John,  if  you  could? 
Fd  have  those  jolly  Christmas  pies.'^ 

John  answered  in  a  grumbling  tone, 
"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  so  let  'em  be ; 

Some  boys  do  get  nice  things  to  eat — 
Not  honest  boys  like  you  and  me.'^ 

^^  Well,  never  mind,''  said  little  Chris ; 

^^  You're  out  of  sorts  this  evening,  John; 
We'll  both  be  rich  maybe  some  day, 
And  then  we'll  eat  'em  up  like  fun.'^ 

'^  No  chance  of*  that  for  us,"  said  John ; 
"  Our  feet  are  now  upon  the  stones  ; 
We  can't  earn  food  and  clothing  too. 
And  you  are  only  skin  and  bones. '^ 

'^  'Tis  hard  to  work  and  not  to  eat ; 

But,  John,  you  would  not  do  what's  bad  I'^ 
*'  No,  I  don't  mean  to  steal — not  I — 

But  when  thieves  feast  it  makes  one  mad." 


152  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

And  so  John  grumbled  day  by  day, 
And  longed  for  something  good  to  eat, 

And  sometimes  looked  out  for  the  boy 
Who  went  off  whistling  down  the  street. 

And  oh,  indeed,  'twas  very  hard, 
When  tired,  hungry,  cold  and  wet, 

To  pass  by  all  the  eating-shops 

That  looked  so  tempting  in  the  street; 

To  see  the  people  going  in 

To  buy  the  puddings,  cakes  and  pies, 
Whilst  they  could  onjy  stand  outside 

And  look  at  them  with  longing  eyes. 

'Twas  hard  to  see  the  smok'ing  meat. 
And  smell  the  vapors  floating  round 

Of  roasting  joints  and  savoury  steaks 
From  steaming  kitchens  under  ground. 

And  sometimes  little  Christy  cried. 

When,  limping  on  with  chilblain'd  toes, 

Jle  saw  fine  windows  full  of  boots 
And  children's  shoes  in  shinintj:  rows. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  153 

Bat  still  he  never  would  complain, 
And  sometimes  said,  if  John  was  sad, 
i'  ^Y(i  got,  oij  bravely  yesterday  ; 

Wliy  should  you  take  to  moping,  lad? 

"But,  John,  I  think  if  you  and  I 

AVere  rich,  as  these  great  people  are, 
We'd  just  look  out  for  orphan  boys 

And    give   them   nice  warm    clothes  to 
wear.'^ 

"Just    so,'^    said    John,    ^^  and    w^e    would 
give 
Poor  little  sweepers  in  the  street 
A  famous  lot  of  bright  pennies, 

To  buy  them  something  good  to  eat. 

"They'd  never  miss  the  little  things 

That   would    make    kings    of    me   and 
you; 
I  wish  that  we  were  rich  men,  Chris, 

We'd  show  'em  what  rich  men  should 
do." 


154:  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

PART   THIRD. 

One  night,  between  the  dark  and  light, 
As  tl>ey  were  going  down  a  lane, 

And  Christopher,  with  bleeding  feet, 
Was  slowly  hobbling  on  with  pain, 

John  saw  some  shoes  outside  a  door: 
^'  They're  sure  to  keep  poor  Cliristy  warm  !" 
And  quick  as  thought  he  snatched  them  up 
And  tucked  them  underneath  his  arm. 

Then  pale  as  ashes  grew  his  face, 

And  sudden  fears  rushed  on  his  mind ; 

He  hurried  on  with  quicker  pace, 

Lest  some  one  should  be  close  behind. 

"Do  stop  a  bit,''  his  brother  cried  ; 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  John." 
John  darted  round  a  frightened  look. 
And  from  a  walk  began  a  run. 

He  thought  he  heard  the  cry  of  "  Thief,'' 
And  swifter  down  the  street  he  fled; 

And  black  as  night  a  wicked  sprite 
With  rapid  feet  behind  him  sped. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  155 

The  cry  of  "Thief!''  was  in  his  enrs 
Through  all  the  bustle  and  the  din  ; 

And  when  he  reat-hed  the  lodging-house. 
The  wicked  spirit  followed  in. 

He  sat  down  pale  and  out  of  breath, 
And  locked  the  door  into  the  street, 

And  trembled  when  he  only  heard 
The  sound  of  little  Christy's  feet. 

^'  There,  Christy,  boy — there's  shoes  for  you, 
And  now  you'll  cut  away  like  fun  ; 
Come,  let  us  see  how  well  they  fit — 
Just  give  a  tug,  and  they'll  be  on.'' 

Then  Christopher  did  laugh  outright, 
^^  Hurra!  hurra! — now^  I  am  shod; 

But,  John,  wd:iere  did  you  get  the  shoes  ?'^ 
John  put  him  off,  and  gave  a  nod. 

The  little  boy  was  tired  out. 

And  quickly  to  his  bed  he  crept, 

And  knew  not  that  a  wicked  sprite 
Scowled  on  his  brother  as  he  slept. 


156  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

John  could  not  rest;  the  faintest  noise 
Made  all  the  flesh  upon  him  creep; 

He  turned,  and  turned,  and  turned  again, 
But  could  not  get  a  wink  of  sleep. 

He  strained  his  ears  to  catch  the  sound 
Of  footsteps  in  the  silent  night, 

And  when  they  came  close  by  the  door, 
His  hair  almost  rose  up  with  fright. 

At  last  his  fear  became  so  great 
That  in  a  cold,  damp  sweat  he  lay, 

And  then  the  thouglit  came  in  his  mind 
That  he  had  better  try  and  pray. 

^^  They  tell  us  at  the  Sunday-school, 
That  we  must  beg  to  be  forgiven  : 
My  mother  used  to  say  the  same 
Before  slie  went  away  to  heaven. 

'*I  wish  I'd  let  the  shoes  alone; 
I  wonder  what  IM  better  do? 
If  I  should  take  them  back  again. 
Poor  Christy  would  not  have  a  shoe. 


GOLDEX  soxas.  157 

^'Though  I  don't  think  he'd  care  for  that, 
For  he's  a  better  boy  than  I,  n 

And  he  would  sooner  starve  to  death 
Than  steal  a  thing  or  tell  a  lie. 

"  Are  you  asleep,  Chris  ?     Can't  you  wake  ? 
I  want  to  tell  you  something  bad ; 
I've  counted  all  the  hours  to-night ; 
I  say,  Chris,  can't  you  wake  up,  lad  ?" 

Just  then  the  child  screamed  in  his  sleep, 
And  started  upright  in  his  bed:- 
"  Are  you  there,  John  ?  Who's  in  the  room  ? 
Oh,  John  !  I  d];^amt  that  you  were  dead. 

"  I'm  glad  enough  that  I  woke  up, 
I'm  glad  you're  all  alive  and  well ; 
I'd  such  an  ugly  dream — I  saw 
The  devil  taking  you  to  hell." 

^-  And  so  he  will,  if  I  don't  mind; 

As  far  as  that,  your  dream  is  right; 
And  as  to  going  off  to  hell, 

I  think  I've  been  in  hell  all  night."' 


158  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?"     "  Why,  stole  some 
shoes — 
That  very  pair  I  gave  to  you ; 
But  I  can't  rest  about  it,  Chris ; 
I  want  to  know  what  we  shall  do. 

"  Why,  take  them  back,  of  course,"  said  Chris, 
^'  And  put  them  where  they  were  before ; 
Let's  go  at  once."     *^  No,  stop/'  said  Johu, 
^^The  clock  has  only  just  struck  four. 

^^  There's  no  one  stirring  in  the  street, 
Th&  shops  will  not  be  opened  yet, 
And  we  sliould  have  to  wait  about 
For  hours  in  the  cofd  and  wet. 

"  And  now,  that  I've  made  up  my  mind, 
I  don't  feel  half  so  much  afraid." 
Then  took  to  flight  that  evil  sprite. 
And  John  lay  down  his  weary  head. 

At  six  o'clock  the  boys  went  out ; 

The  snow  was  falling  in  the  street; 
And  through  the  bitter  morning  air 

They  ran  along  with  naked  feet. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  159 

They  watched  the  busy  town  wake  up, 
Undoing  shutter,  bolt  and  bar; 

But  full  two  hours  they  walked  about 
Before  that  door  was  set  ajar. 

John  quickly  slipped  the  shoes  inside, 
And  then  as  quickly  walked  away, 

And  with  a  lighter  heart  he  went 
To  face  the  labors  of  the  day. 

Fast  fell  the  feathery,  floating  snow. 
In  w^hirling  currents  driven  round, 

Or  fluttered  down  in  silent  showers 
Of  fleecy  flakes  upon  the  ground. 

if 
With  broom  in  hand  and  shiverino;  limbs 

The  little  sweepers  bravely  stood. 
And  faced  the  cutting  north-east  wind, 

That  seemed  to  chill  their  very  blood. 

A  lady,  in  a  house  close  by, 

Who  often  watched  the  little  boys. 

Heard  many  times  that  stormy  day 
A  deep  cough  mingling  with  the  noise. 


160  GOLDEX  .SONGS. 

She  rose  up  from  lier  blazing  fire, 
And  from  the  window  looked  about, 

And  hard  at  work  amongst  the  snow- 
She  spied  the  ragged  sweepers  out. 

^^Do,  Geraldine,  look  here/'  she  said  ; 
^       "  ITow  thin  that  youngest  boy  has  grown  ! 
Poor  little  wretch  !  how  cold  he  looks, 
He's  little  more  than  skin  and  bone." 

^'Poor  little  boy.!''  said  Geraldine; 
''  I  never  saw  a  paler  face ; 
I  think  they  must  be  honest  boys, 
They  keep  so  constant  to  their  place. 

'^^^  There's    Frank's    and    Freddy's    worn-out 
shoes, 
I  think  would  fit  them  very  well." 
'^  IVn-haps  they  would;  I'll  have  them  brought, 
Jly  dear,  if  you  will  ring  the  bell. 

^' And  there's  your  brothers'  old  great  coats, 
They'll  never  ])ut  them  on  again  ; 
But  they  wouKl  keep  these  ehihii'en  warm 
In  many  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain." 


MotlicrV  Last  Woi.ls 


Golden  Songs. 


Pajic  IC.l. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  161 

"  And  give  them  something  nice  to  eat ; 
I  don't  mean  dry  old  crusts  of  bread, 
Bat  good  mince-pies/'  said  Geraldine; 
"You  know  we  have  a  plenty  made.'' 

'^  Well  do  so,  if  you  like,  my  dear.'' 

"  Oh,  thank  you  ;  they  shall  have  some 
pies." 
Poor  John  and  little  Christopher, 
They  hardly  could  believe  their  eyes. 

They  took  the  clothes  and  nice  mince-pies, 
They  bowed  and  thanked,  and  bowed 
again. 

Then  scampered  down  the  splashy  streets. 
And  reached  their  own  dull,  dirty  lane. 

And  there  they  fitted  on  their  coats. 
And  turned  the  pockets  inside  out, 

Stuck  up  the  collars  round  their  ears. 
Put  on  the  shoes  and  marched  about. 

They  rubbed  their  hands  and  laughed  amain, 
And  twisted  one  another  round, 

14  * 


162  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

And  then  John  turned  a  somerset, 

And  cleared  the  bedstead  with  a  bound. 

^^But  now  for  these  fine  Christmas  pies/^ 
He   said,    and   smaclved    his    lips    with 
glee, 

^'  They're  just  the  things  you  wanted,  Chris — 
There's  two  for  you  and  two  for  me. 

''  We  never  had  such  luck  before, 

We  never  dreamt  of  such  a  thins;/^ 

''I  think  'twas  mother's  angel,  John, 
Who  had  that  order  from  the  King.'^ 

'^  You  don't  mean  that  in  earnest,  Chris?" 
^•Why  not?"   said  Chris,  '^'m  sure  I 
do. 
I  say,  Jolin,  if  we  died  to-night. 
Should  we  both  go  to  heaven,  too?'^ 

^MVell,  Christoplier,  last  night  I  thought 
I  should  be  sure  to  go  to  hell ; 
What  sort  of  place  that's  like  to  be 
I've  now  a  notion  I  could  tell. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  163 

"  I'm  pretty  sure  if  I  had  died 

Last  night,  without  my  sins  forgiven* 
I'd  not  a  single  chance  to  go 

To  be  with  mother  up  in  heaven. 

^^  I  wish  I'd  never  touched  the  shoes ; 
.  To  steal  is  such  a  shameful  sin, 
And  though  they're  taken  back  again, 
I  don't  feel  yet  all  right  within. 

''  It  was  so  bad  to  go  and  steal ; 

Four  months  to-day  you  know  she  died; 
And  thougli  we've  fared  quite  hard  enough, 
Our  wants  have  mostly  been  supplied. 

"  Some  boys,  we  know,  have  had  no  bed — 
A  deal  worse  off  than  you  or  I, 
For  we  have  always  had  some  bread, 
And  just  a  place  where  we  could  lie. 

^^  And  now  we've  got  some  clothes  to  wear, 
And  days  will  soon  be  getting  long, 
And  then,  old  boy,  we'll  shortly  see 
You  picking  up  and  getting  strong.'^ 


164  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

^  I  don't  know^  John — I  fancy  not ; 

I  sometimes  think  I'm  going  to  die ; 
I  dream  so  much  about  the  place 

Where  mother  went — I  don't  know  w^hy, 

^^  Except,  maybe,  I'm  going  too. 

I  saw  one  night,  John,  in  a  doze, 
That  angel  that  my  mother  saw, 

With  snowy  wings  and  shining  clothes. 

^'  He  looked  at  me,  and  then  he  smiled, 

And  said,  ^  Your  time  will  soon  be  come; 
Be  patient,  little  Christopher — 
You're  going  to  a  better  home.' 

''  You  know  last  Sunday  at  the  school 
The  lady  told  us  how  to  pray. 
And  said,  ^  that  Jesus  Christ  had  come 
To  die  and  take  our  sins  away.' 

'^  And  so  I  begged  he'd  take  all  mine; 
And,  Johnny,  I  believe  he  wjll ; 
And  now  I  should  not  mind  to  die, 
If  we  could  be  together  still." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  165 

'^  Oh,  Christy,  boy,  you  must  not  die ; 
What  should  I  do  without  you  here? 
Oh,  do  get  well — you  must  get  weiy^ 
And  John  brushed  off  a  starting  tear. 

The  winter  passed,  and  spring-time  came, 
And  summer  days  grew  warm  and  long, 

But  little  Christy  weaker  grew. 

And  soon  could  hardly  creep  along. 

And  then  he  stopped  all  day  at  home, 
And  soon  he  hardly  left  his  bed ; 

And  John  was  forced  to  leave  him  there 
To  earn  for  both  their  daily  bread. 

Sometimes  the  lady  at  the  house 
Gave  John  some  little  jobs  to  do, 

And  when  she  found  he  did  them  well, 
She  sent  him  on  her  errands  too. 

And  now  when  Christopher  was  ill. 
And  John  was  leaving  for  the  night. 

She  gave  him  little  dainty  things 
To  please  his  brother's  appetite. 


166  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

The  woman  at  the  baker's  shop 
Had  always  been  a  faithful  friend, 

And  often  came  to  see  the  child, 

And  stayed  a  while  to  wash  and  mend. 

The  lady  at  the  Sunday-school 

Found  out  the  little  orphans'  home, 

And  she  would  come  and  read  to  Chris, 
And  he  was  glad  to  see  her  come. 

She  talked  about  the  heavenly  King, 
And  she  would  kneel  and  softly  pray ; 

And  thus  he  lingered  on  a  whilo. 
Still  getting  weaker  day  by  day. 

'Twas  on  a  sultry  summer's  night. 
When  heavy  lay  the  stifling  air. 

As  John  was  dropping  off  to  sleep, 
He  heard  a  softly-whispered  prayer. 

He  knew  'twas  Chris,  and  did  not  stir, 
And  then  he  heard  a  gentle  sigh; 

It  was  the  dear  boy's  happy  soul 
Escaping  to  its  home  on  high. 


GOLDEN   SONGS,  167 

He  left  behind  his  wasted  form ; 

He  rose  above  the  toiling  folk, 
Above  tlie  cross  upon  St.  PauTs, 

Above  the  fog,  above  the  smoke. 

And  higlier^  higher,  up  he  went, 
Until  he  reached  the  golden  gate, 

Where  night  and  day,  in  shining  bands, 
The  holy  angels  watch  and  wait. 

And  he  went  in  and  saw  the  King, 
The  Saviour  who  for  him  had  died, 

And  found  once  more  his  mother  dear ; 
And  little  Chris  was  satisfied. 

And  there  they  both  together  wait 

Till  John  shall  reach  that  happy  home, 

And  often  from  the  golden  gate 

They  watch  in  hopes  to  see  him  come. 

But  John  had  many  years  to  live, 
For  he  had  useful  work  to  do ; 

And  he  grew  up  an  honest  man, 
A  sober  man,  and  Christian  too. 


168  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

His  friend,  the  lady  at  the  house, 

When  little  Chris  was  dead  and  gone, 

Bound  John  apprentice  to  a  trade, 
And  so  he  did  not  feel  alone. 

And  that  bright  minister  of  love, 
Appointed  by  the  Saviour  King 

To  guard  those  orphan  boys  on  earth, 
And  then  to  heavenly  glory  bring, 

Still  walked  with  John  his  journey  through. 
And  though  unseen  was  ever  nigh; 

Nor  left  him  till  his  work  was  done, 
And  then  went  up  with  him  on  high. 

And  there,  in  everlasting  joy. 

The  mother  and  the  brothers  meet. 

To  ])art  no  more,  and  weep  no  more, 
Nor  dwell  in  that  dark,  dirty  street; 

To  toil  no  more  with  bleeding  feet, 

Nor  hungering  long  for  something  nice; 

For  they  are  clothed  as  angels  are, 
And  eat  the  fruits  of  Paradise. 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  169 

Jfo  more  the  cold  shall  freeze  their  limbs, 
Nor  darkness  chill  their  dreary  night; 

It  is  eternal  summer  there, 

And  all  the  blessed  rest  in  light ; 

And  there,  with  thousand  thousand  souls. 
All  saved  from  sorrow,  fear  and  shame, 

They  join  to  sing  the  happy  song 
Of  praise  to  God  and  to  the  Lamb, 

Dear  boys,  who  read  the  simple  tale 
Of  these  poor  sweepers  in  the  street, 

The  gracious  God  who  cared  for  them 
Will  also  guide  your  willing  feet. 


WHO   SHALL   STAND    IN   THE   HOLY  PLACE? 

Oh  who  before  the  righteous  God 

Shall  uncondemned  appear  ? 
The  man  whose  soul  abides  in  truth, 

In  deed  and  thought  sincere ; 

The  man  whose  heart  from  guile  is  pure, 
Whose  hands  from  bribes  are  free ; 

15 


170  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Who  honest  poverty  prefers 
To  gainful  perjury; 

f 
•The  man  who  to  his  plighted  word 

Has  ever  firmly  stood ; 

Who,  though  he  promise  to  his  hurt, 

Still  makes  his  promise  good; 

Who  throws  the  chambers  of  his  soul 

Wide  open  to  the  light, 
And  strives  each  day  and  hour  to  live 

As  in  his  Maker's  si2:ht. 


EVERY  DAY 

SONGS  AND  BALLADS. 


EVERY-DAY 
SOI^GS  AXD  BALLADS. 


THE    LITTLE    DOVES. 

High  on  the  top  of  an  old  pine  tree 
Broods  a  mother  dove,  with  her  young  ones 

three ; 
Warm  over  them  is  her  soft  downy  breast, 
And  they  sing  so  sweetly  in  their  nest : 
Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo  !  says  she, 
All  in  their  nest  in  the  old  pine  tree. 

Soundly  they  sleep  through   the  moonshiny 

night. 
Each  young  one  covered  and  tucked  in  tight ; 
Morn  wakes  them  up  with  the  first  blush  of 

light. 
And  they  sing  to  each  other  with  all  their 

might : 
15  *  173 


174  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo !  says  she, 
All  in  their  nest  in  the  old  pine  tree. 

"When  in  their  nest  they  are  left  all  alone, 
Awhile  their  mother  far  for  their  dinner  has 

flown. 
Quiet  and  gentle  they  all  remain. 
Till  their  mother  they  see  come  home  again ; 
Then  Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo  !  says  she, 
All  in  their  nest  in  the  old  pine  tree. 

When  they  are  fed  by  their  tender  mother, 
One  never  will  push  nor  crowd  another ; 
Each  opens  wide  his  own  little  bill. 
And  he  patiently  waits  and  gets  his  fill; 
Then  Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo  !  says  she, 
All  in  their  nest  in  the  old  pine  tree. 

Wisely  the  mother  begins  by  and  by 
To  make  her  young  ones  learn  to  fly, 
Just  for  a  little  way  over  the  brink. 
Then  back  to  the  nest  as  quick  as  a  wink; 
And  Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo  !  says  she, 
All  in  their  nest  in  the  old  pine  tree. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  175 

Fast  grow  the  young  ones,  day  and  nigbt, 
Till    their   wings    are    plumed    for  a  longer 

flight; 
Till  unto  them  at  the  last  draws  nigh 
The  time  when  they  all  must  say  good-bye ; 
Then  Coo  !  say  the  little  ones — Coo  !  says  she, 
And  away  they  fly  from  the  old  pine  tree. 

J.  R. 


MY    LITTLE    LAMMIE. 

A   NURSERY  SONG. 

As  I  walked  over  the  hills  one  day, 

I  listened  and  heard  a  mother-sheep  say : 

"  In  all  the  green  world,  there  is  nothing  so 

sweet 
As  my  little  lammie,  with  his  nimble  feet; 
With  his  eye  so  bright  and  his  wool  so  white, 
Oh  he  is  my  darling,  my  heart's  delight. 
The  robin,  he  that  sings  in  the  tree, 
Dearly  may  dote  on  his  darlings  four; 
But  I  love  my  one  little  lambkin  more." 
And  the  mother-sheep  and  her  little  one 
Side  by  side  lay  down  in  the  sun, 


176  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  tliey  went  to  sleep  on  the  hill-slcle  warm ; 
While  my  little  laminie  lies  here  on  my  arm. 

I  went  into  the  kitchen,  and  what  did  I  see 
But  the  old  gray  cat  and  her  kittens  three  ? 
I  heard  her  whispering  soft.     Said  she, 
''  My  kittens,  with  tails  all  so  cunningly  curled, 
Are  the  prettiest  things  that  can  be  in  the 

world ; 
The  bird  on  the  tree,  and  the  old  ewe  she. 
May  love  their  babies  exceedingly, 
But  I  love  my  kittens  there,  under  the  rock- 
ing-chair ; 

I  love  my  kittens  with  all  my  might; 

I  love  them  at  morning  and  noon  and  night; 

Which  is  the  prettiest  I  cannot  tell — 

Which  of  the  three,  for  the  life  of  me, 

I  love  them  all  so  well ; 

Now  I'll  take  up  my  kitties,  the  kitties  I 

love. 
And    we'll    lie   down    together   beneath    the 

warm  stove.'' 
Let  the  kitties  sleep  under  the  stove  so  warm, 
While  my  little  darling  lies  here  on  my  arm. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  177 

I  went  to  the  yard,  and  I  saw  the  old  hen 
Go  clucking  about  with  her  children  ten. 
She  clucked  and  she  scratched  and  she  bristled 

away, 
And  what  do  you  think  I  heard  her  say  ? 
I  heard  her  say,  "  The  sun  never  did  shine 
On  anything  like  to  these  chickens  of  mine; 
You  may  hunt  the  full  moon  and  the  stars, 

if  you  please, 
But  you  never  will  find  ten  such  chickens  as 

these ; 
The  cat  loves  her  kittens,  the  ewe  loves  her 

lamb. 
But  they  do  not  know  what  a  proud  mother 

I  am ; 
For  lambs,  nor  for  kittens,  I  won't  part  with 

these. 
Though  the  sheep  and  the  cat  should  go  down 

on  their  knees ; 
No,  no  !  not  though  the  kittens  should  crow, 
Or  the  laramie  on  two  yellow  legs  could  go ; 
My  dear   downy   darlings,   my   sweet    little 

things ; 
Come  nestle  now  cozily  under  my  wings ;'' 


178  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

So  the  hen  said,  and  the  chickens  all  sped 
As  fast  as  they  could  to  their  nice  feather 

bed  ; 
And  there  let  them  sleep  in  their  feathers  so 

warm, 
While  my  little  chick  lies  here  on  my  arm. 

Littell's  Living  Age. 


MARY    DOW. 

Come  in,  little  stranger,  I  said, 

As  she  tapped  at  my  half-open  door. 

While  the  blanket  pinned  over  her  head 
Just  reached  to  the  basket  she  bore. 

A  look  full  of  innocence  fell 

From  her  modest  and  pretty  blue  eye, 
As  she  said,  "  I  have  matches  to  sell. 

And  hope  you  are  willing  to  buy ! 

'^  A  penny  a  bunch  is  the  price ; 

I  think  you  will  not  find  it  too  much; 
They're  tied  up  so  even  and  nice. 
And  ready  to  light  with  a  touch." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  179 

I  asked,  ^^  What's  your  name,  little  girl?'^ 
"'Tis  Mary/'  she  said— ^^  Mary  Dow  V' 

And  carelessly  tossed  off  a  curl 

That  played  o'er  her  delicate  brow. 

*^  My  father  was  lost  in  the  deep, 
The  ship  never  got  to  the  shore; 
And  mother  is  sad,  and  will  weep 

When    she  hears    the   wind    blow,   and 
sea  roar  ! 

"  She  sits  there  at  home  without  food, 
Beside  our  poor  sick  Willie's  bed ; 
She  paid  all  her  money  for  wood. 
And  so  I  sell  matches  for  bread. 

"Every  time  that  my  dear  mother  tries 
Some  things  she'll  get  pay  for  to  make, 
And  lays  down  the  baby,  it  cries ; 

And  that  makes  my  sick  brother  wake. 

"  I  go  to  the  school,  where  I'm  taught 
Of  the  Saviour  so  wise  and  so  good. 
Who  knows  every  action  and  thought, 
And  ogives  even  ravens  their  food. 


180  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

*^  And  He,  I  urn  sure,  who  doth  take 
Such  fatherly  care  of  a  bird, 
Will  never  forget  or  forsake 

His  children  who  trust  in  his  word. 

'^  And  now,  if  I  only  can  sell 

The  matches  I  brought  out  to-day, 
I  think  I  shall  do  very  wxll, 

And  mamma  will  rejoice  at  the  pay.'^ 

Fly  home,  little  bird,  then  I  thought — 
Fly  home  full  of  joy  to  your  nest ; 

For  I  took  all  the  matches  she  brought, 
And  Mary  may  tell  you  the  rest. 

THE    SQUIRREL 

A  SQUiRliEL  sat  on  the  topmost  limb 
Of  a  fine  old  hickory,  graceful  and  slim; 
For  his  breakfast  he'd  run  over  heather  and 

heath, 
And  now  he  sat  co;^ily  picking  his  teeth. 

And  there  as  he  sat,  gently  fanned  by  the  breeze 
That  rustled  the  leaves  of  the  old  forest  trees, 


GOLDEX   S0XG8.  181 

A  poor  wounded  dove  came  and  perched  by 

his  side, 
And   to  his  '^  good-morning'' thus  trembling 

replied  : 

^*  I  ^va^n  you,  Sir  Squirrel,  to  run  for  your  life, 
Lest  sorrow  you  bring  on  your  children  and 

wife; 
A  hunter  is  coming  vrith  dog  and  with  gun  ; 
As  a  friend,  I  advise  you,  Sir  Squirrel,  to  run. 

'^Take  warning,  I  pray,  from  my  own  bleeding 

breast, 
And  hasten  away  to  your  leaf-guarded  nest !'' 
^'  Pooh,  pooh  !'^  said  the  squirrel,  '^  I  scorn  thus 

to  run ; 
I  fear  not  the  hunter,  his  doo;  nor  his  o:un  V^ 

^'  Good-bye,  then.  Sir  Squirrel,  before  it's  too 

late ; 
I  go,  and  I  leave  you  alone  to  your  fate  ;" 
And  away  sped    the  dove  over  heather  and 

heath, 
But  the  squirrel  sat  cozily  picking  his  teeth. 

16 


182  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

When  on  came  the  hunter  with  dog  and  with 
gun, 

And  then  the  poor  squirrel  Avould  gladly 
have  run ; 

But  a  victim  he  fell  to  his  folly  and  pride, 

And  for  scorning  good  counsel  the  poor  squir- 
rel died  ! 


THE    BOY    WHO    NEVER    TELLS    A    LIE. 

Once  there  was  a  little  boy, 

AVith  curly  hair  and  pleasant  eye — 

A  boy  who  always  told  the  truth, 
And  never,  never  told  a  lie  I 

And  when  he  trotted  off  to  school, 
The  children  all  about  would  cry, 

'^  There  goes  the  curly-headed  boy, 
AVho  never,  never  tells  a  lie.'^ 

And  everybody  trusted  him 

Because  he  always  told  the  truth ; 

And  more  and  more,  as  he  grew  up. 
They  loved  the  true  and  honest  youth 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  183 

God  is  a  God  of  truth,  and  when 

His  little  honest  children  die, 
He  takes  them  up  to  live  with  him, 

Where  none  can  go  who  love  "  to  lie  !'^ 


THE    DRUMMER-BOY'S    BURIAL 

All  day  long  the  storm  of  battle 

Through  the  startled  valley  swept; 
All  night  long  the  stars  in  heaven, 

O'er  the  slain  sad  vigils  kept ; 
Oh  the  ghastly,  upturned  faces 

Gleaming  whitely  through  the  night ! 
Oh  the  heaps  of  mangled  corses 

In  that  dim,  sepulchral  light ! 

One  by  one  the  pale  stars  faded, 

And  at  length  the  morning  broke, 
But  not  one  of  all  the  sleepers 

On  that  field  of  death  awoke ; 
Slowly  passed  the  golden  hours 

Of  the  long,  bright  summer  day; 
And  upon  that  field  of  carnage 

Still  the  dead  unburied  lay, — 


184  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Lay  there  stark  and  cold,  but  pleading 

With  a  dumb,  unceasing  prayer 
For  a  little  dust  to  hide  them 

FroQi  the  staring  sun  and  air; 
But  the  foemen  held  possession 

Of  that  hard-won  battle-plain, 
In  unholy  wrath  denying 

Even  burial  to  our  slain. 

Once  again  the  night  closed  o'er  them. — 

Night  so  holy  and  so  calm, 
That  the  moonbeams  hushed  the  spirit 

Like  the  sound  of  prayer  or  psalm  ; 
On  a  couch  of  trampled  grasses, 

Just  apart  from  all  the  rest, 
Lay  a  fair  young  boy,  with  small  hands 

Meekly  folded  on  his  breast. 

Death  had  touched  him  very  gently, 

And  he  lay  as  if  asleep ; 
Even  his  mother  scarce  had  shuddered 

At  that  slumber  calm  and  deej) ; 
For  a  smile  of  wondrous  sweetness 

Lent  a  radiance  to  the  liice, 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  185 

And  the  hand  of  cunning  sculptor 

Could  have  added  naught  of  grace 
To  the  marble  limbs  so  perfect 

In  their  passionless  repose, 
Robbed  of  all  save  matchless  pureness 

By  the  hard,  unpitying  foes ; 
And  the  broken  drum  beside  him 

All  his  life's  short  story  told — 
How  he  did  his  duty  bravely 

Till  the  death-tide  o'er  him  rolled. 

Midnight  came  with  ebon  garments 

And  a  diadem  of  stars, 
While  right  upward  in  the  zenith 

Hung  the  fiery  planet  Mars ; 
Hark !  a  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps 

And  of  voices  whispering  low ; 
Was  it  nothing  but  the  young  leaves, 

Or  the  brooklet's  murmuring  flow  ? 

Clinging  closely  to  each  other. 

Striving  never  to  look  round. 
As  they  passed  with  silent  shudder 

The  pale  corses  on  the  ground, 

16* 


186  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Came  two  little  maidens,  sisters, 
With  a  light  and  hasty  tread. 

And  a  look  upon  their  faces 
Half  of  sorrow,  half  of  dread. 

But  they  did  not  pause  nor  falter 

Till  with  throbbing  hearts  they  stood 
Where  the  drummer-boy  w^as  lying 

In  that  partial  solitude; 
They  had  brought  some  simple  garments 

From  their  wardrobes'  scanty  store; 
And  tw^o  heavy  iron  shovels 

In  their  slender  hands  they  bore. 

Then  they  quickly  knelt  beside  him, 

Crushing  back  the  pitying  tears, 
For  they  had  no  time  for  weeping 

Nor  for  any  girlish  fears. 
And  they  robed  the  icy  body  in  its  hour 

of  sorest  need, 
And    they  felt  that   death   was   holy,  and 
it  sanctified  the  deed. 

But  they  smiled  and  kissed  each  other 
When  their  new,  strange  task  was  o'er; 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  187 

And  the  form  that  lay  before  them 
Its  unwonted  garments  wore  ; 

Then  with  slow  and  weary  labor 
A  small  grave  they  hollowed  out, 

And  they  lined  it  w^ith  the  withered 
Grass  and  leaves  that  lay  about ; 

But  the  day  was  slowly  breaking 
Ere  their  holy  work  was  done, 

And  in  crimson  pomp  the  morning 
Heralded  again  the  sun ; 

Then  those  tender  little  maidens — 
They  were  children  of  our  foes — 

Laid  the  body  of  our  drummer- 
Boy  to  undisturbed  repose. 

BOB-O'-LINK. 

Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  w^eed, 
Near  to  the  nest  of  his  little  dame, 

Over  the  mountain-side  or  mead, 

Robert  of  Lincoln  is  tellincr  his  name : 

Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link — spink, spank, spink ! 
Snug  and  safe  is  that  nest  of  ours. 

Hidden  among   the   summer   flowers — chee, 
chee,  chee ! 


188  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

llobert  of  Lincoln  is  gayly  drest, 

Wearing  a  bright  black  wedding-coat ; 

AVliite  are  his  shouklers  and  white  his  crest ; 
Hear  him  call  in  his  merry  note — 

Bob-o'-link,bob-'o-link — spink,spank,  spinkl 
Look  what  a  nice  new  coat  is  mine, 

Sure    there  w^as  never  a  bird  so  line — chee, 
chee,  chee  ! 

Robert  of  Lincoln's  Quaker  wife, 

Pretty  and  quiet,  with  plain  brown  wings, 
Passing  at  home  a  patient  life, 

Broods    in   the  grass   while    her    husband 
sings, 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link — spink,  spank,  spink! 

Brood,  kind  creature,  you  need  not  fear 
Thieves  and  robbers  while  I  am  here — chee, 
chee,  chee ! 

Modest  and  shy  as  a  nun  is  she. 
One  weak  chirp  is  lier  only  note ; 

Braggart,  and  prince  of  braggarts,  is  he, 
Pourinir  boasts  from  his  little  throat — 

'^  Never  was  I  afi'aid  of  man ; 

Catch  me  cowardly  knaves,  if  you  can!'' 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  189 

Six  white  eggs  on  a  bed  of  hay, 

Flecked  with  purple,  a  pretty  sight ; 

There,  as  the  mother  sits  all  day, 

Robert  is  singing  with  all  his  might — 

''  Nice  good  wife,  that  never  goes  out, 

Keej)ing  house  while  I  frolic  about !'' 

Soon  as  the  little  ones  chip  the  shell 
Six  wide  mouths  are  open  for  food ; 

Eubert  of  Lincoln  bestirs  him  well, 

Gathering  seeds  for  the  hungry  brood — 

^*  This  new  life  is  likely  to  be 

Hard  for  a  young  fellow  like  me/^ 

Robert  of  Lincoln  at  length  is  made 
Sober  with  work  and  silent  with  care; 

Off  is  his  holiday  garment  laid, 
Half  forgotten  that  merry  air — 

''  Xobody  knows  but  my  mate  and  I 

Where  our  nest  and  nestlings  lie/^ 

Summer  wanes — the  children  are  grown; 
Fun  and  frolic  no  more  he  knows; 


190  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Robert  of  Lincoln's  a  Immdrum  crone; 
Off  he  flies  and  we  sinii;  as  he  2:oes — 
^'  When  you  can  pipe  that  merry  ohl  strain, 
Robert  of  Lineohi,  come  back  again  V^ 

W.  C.  Bryant, 

POOR     MAMMA. 

Dear  mother,  get  my  bonnet,  do! 

I  want  to  go  and  phiy; 
And,  mother,  hurry,  tie  my  shoe. 

Or  puss  will  run  away; 
And  })lease,  mamma,  untie  this  string. 

It's  in  a  hateful  knot ; 
And  tell  me  wliere  I  put  my  sling — 

I  really  have  forgot. 

Mamma,  said  Jane,  my  dress  is  loose, 

I  wish  you'd  hook  it  up  ; 
Oh  dear !  I  want  a  drink  so  bad, 

Jiut  I  can't  reach  the  cup. 
Mamma,  cries  Jolin,  I  want  a  string 

To  make  my  kite  fly  high. 
And  lots  of  paper  for  the  tail, 

To  make  it  reach  the  sky ! 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  191 

I've  cut  my  finger,  whimpers  Pet, 

Do  tie  a  rag  upon  it. 
And,  mamma,  please  sew  this  string 

Once  more  upon  my  bonnet; 
And  please  comb  out  my  tangled  hair, 

And  wash  my  face  all  clean, 
For  the  children  all  are  going  to  walk, 

And  I^m  not  fit  to  be  seen ! 

Mamma,  where  is  my  jumping-rope? 

Where  did  I  put  my  hat? 
I  wish  you'd  help  me  build  this  house ! 

Mamma,  Bess  plagues  my  cat! 
Mamma,  cries  Dick,  please  tie  my  hoop, 

And  draw  a  house  for  me ; 
And  all  the  pictures  in  that  book, 

Mamma,  please  show  to  me  ! 

Now,  every  hour  and  every  day 

Don't  call  mamma  for  aid  ; 
But  help  yourself,  and  you'll  help  her. 

My  darling  little  maid ; 
You,  sir  !  don't  be  a  thoughtless  boy, 

But  a  thoughtful  little  man ; 


192  GOLDEX   SONGS. 

Play  without  help ;  put  up  each  toy — 
Help  mamma  all  you  can ! 


GOOD-MORNING. 

^^Oh  I  am  so  happy !"  a  little  girl  said, 
As  she  sprang  like  a  lark  from  her  low  trun- 
dle bed ; 
^^  ^  Tis  morning,  bright  morning,  good-morn- 
ing, papa ! 
Just  give  me  a  kiss  for  good-morning,  mamma : 
Only  just  look  at  my  pretty  canary, 
Chirping  his  sweet  good-morning  to  Mary  ! 
The  sun  is  peeping  straight  Into  my  eyes — 
Good-morning  to  you,  Mr.  Sun,  for  you  rise 
Early  to  wake  up  my  birdie  and  me, 
And  make  us  as  happy  as  happy  can  be.'' 

"  Happy  you  may  be,  my  dear  little  girl," 
And  her  mother  stroked  softly  a  clustering 

curl — 
'^  Happy  you  may  l>e,  but  think  of  the  One 
Wlio  waked  this  morning  both  you  and  the 

sun  r 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  193 

The  little  girl  turned  her  bright  eyes  with  a 

nod  : 
^^  Mamma,  may  I  say  good-morning  to  God?'^ 
^^  Yes,  little  darling  one,  surely  you  may ; 
Kneel  as  you  kneel  every  morning  to  pray.'^ 
Mary  knelt  solemnly  down,  with  her  eyes 
Looking  up  earnestly  into  the  skies. 

Two  little  hands  that  were  folded  together 

Softly  she  laid  on  the  lap  of  her  mother. 

"  Good-morning,  dear  Father  in  heaven/^  she 

said ; 
"  I  thank  you  for  watching  my  snug  little  bed, 
And  for  taking  good  care  of  me  all  the  dark 

night, 
And  for  waking  me   up  with  the  beautiful 

light. 
Oh  keep  me  from  naughtiness  all  the  long  day, 
Dear  Saviour,  who  taught  little  children  to 

pray/^ 
17 


194  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


THE   SPIDER    AND   THE   FLY. 

*^  Will  you  walk  into  my  parlor?'^  said  the 

spider  to  the  fly ; 
"  ^Tis  the  prettiest  little  parlor  that  ever  you 

did  spy; 
The  way  into   my  parlor  is  up  a  winding 

stair, 
And  I  have  many  pretty  things  to  show  you 

when  you're  there/' 

*^  Oh,  no,  no,''  said  the  little  fly ;  "  to  ask  me 

is  in  vain, 
For  who  goes  up  your  winding  stairs  can 

ne'er  come  down  again." 

^'  I'm  sure  you  must  be  weary,  dear,  with 

soaring  up  so  high  ; 
Will  you  rest  upon  my  little  bed  ?"  said  the 

spider  to  the  fly, 
*^  There  are  pretty  curtains  drawn  around,  the 

sheets  are  fine"  and  thin. 
And  if  you  like  to  rest  a  while,  I'll  snugly 

tuck  you  in." 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  195 

^^Oh,  no,  no/'  said  the  little  fly,  ''for  Vve 

often  heard  it  said, 
They  never,  never  wake  again  who  sleep  upon 

vour  bed.' 


Said  the  cunning  spider  to  the  fly  :   '^  Dear 

friend,  what  can  I  do 
To  prove  the  warm  affection  Vxe  always  felt 

for  you  ? 
I  have  within   my  pantry  good  store  of  all 

that's  nice ; 
I'm  sure  you're  very  welcome — will  you  please 

to  take  a  slice  ?" 

''  Oh,  no,  no,"  said  the  little  fly ;  ''  kind  sir, 

that  cannot  be ; 
I've  heard  what's  in  your  pantry,  and  I  do 

not  wish  to  see." 

^^  Sweet  creature,"  said   the   spider,   ^^  you're 

witty  and  you're  wise ; 
How  handsome  are  your  gauzy  wings,  how 

brilliant  are  your  eyes  ! 


196  OOLDEX   SONGS. 

I  have  a  little  looking-glass  upon  my  parlor 

shelf; 
If  you'll  step  in  one  moment,  dear,  you  shall 

behold  yourself/' 

^^  I  thank  you,  gentle  sir/'  she  said,  ^^  for  what 

you  please  to  say, 
And,  bidding  you  good-morning  now,  I'll  call 

another  day/' 

The  spider  turned  him  r^und  about  and  Avent 

into  his  den, 
For  well   he  knew  the  silly  fly  would  soon 

come  back  again  : 
So  he  wove  a  subtle  web  in  a  little  corner  sly, 
And  set  his  table  ready  to  dine  upon  the  fly. 

Then  came  he  to  his  door  again,  and  merrily 

did  sing, 
"  Come   hither,   hither,   pretty  fly,   with  the 

pearl-and-silver  wing; 
Your  robes  are  green  and  purple,  there's  a 

crest  upon  your  liead ; 
Your  eyes  are  like  the  diamond,  while  mine 

are  dull  as  lead." 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  197 

Alas  !  alas  !  how  very  soon  this  silly  little  fly, 
Hearing  his  wily,  flattering  words,  came  slowly 

flitting  by ! 
With  buzzing  wings  she  hung  aloft,  then  near 

and  nearer  drew. 
Thinking  only  of  her  brilliant  eyes  and  her 

green-and-purple  hue; 
Thinking    only    of    her    crested    head,    poor 

foolish  thing  !  at  last 
Up  jumped  the  cunning  spider  and  fiercely 

held  her  fast ; 
He  dragged  her  up  his  winding  stair,  into  his 

dismal  den, 
Within  his  little  parlor,  but  she  ne^er  came 

out  again. 

And  now,  dear  little  children  who  may  this 

storv  read, 
To  idle,  silly,  flattering  words  I  pray  you  ne'er 

give  heed  ; 
Unto  all  evil  counselors  close  heart  and  ear 

and  eye. 
And  take  a  lesson  from  this  tale  of  the  Spider 

and  the  Fly. 

Mary  Howitt. 
17  * 


198  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


THE   SNOW-BIRD. 
The  ground  was  all  covered  with  snow  one 

And  two  little  sisters  were  busy  at  play, 
When  a  snow-bird  was  sitting  close  by,  on  a 

tree. 
And  merrily  singing  his  chick-a-dee-dee. 

He  had  not  been  singing  that  tune  very  long, 
Ere  Emily  heard  him,  so  loud  was  his  song; 
*'  Oh,  sister,  look  out  of  the  window  I''  said  she, 
'^  Here^s  a  dear  little  bird  sinc^ino;  chick-a- 
dee-dee. 

^^  Poor  fellow !  he  walks  in  the  snow  and  the 

sleet, 
And  has  neither  stockings  nor  shoes  on  his 

feet ; 
I  pity  him  so,  how  cold  he  must  be! 
And  yet  he  keeps  singing  his  chick-a-dee-dee. 

^'  If  I  were  a  barefooted  snow-bird,  I  know 
I   would   not  stay  out  in  the  cold   and  the 

snow  ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS,  199 

I  wonder  what  makes  him  so  fall  of  his  glee  ? 
He's  all  the  time  singing  that  chick-a-clee-dee. 

"Oh,  mother,  do  get  him  some  stockings  and 

shoes, 
And  a  nice  little  frock,  and   a  hat  if  you 

choose ; 
I  wish  he'd  come  into  the  parlor  and  see 
How  warm  we  would  make  him,  poor  chick- 

a-dee-dee !'' 

The  bird  had  flown  down  for  some  pieces  of 

bread, 
And  heard  every  word  little  Emily  said. 
"  What  a  figure  I'd  make  in   that  dress  !'^ 

thought  he, 
And  he  laughed  as  he  warbled  his  chick-a- 

dee-dee. 

"  I'm  grateful,"  said  he,  "  for  the  wish  you 

express, 
But  I  have  no  occasion  for  such  a  fine  dress ; 
I  had  rather  remain  with  my  little  legs  free, 
Than    be    hobbling    along,   singing   chick-a- 

dee-dee. 


200  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

^'  There  is  one,  my  dear  child,  though  I  cannot 

tell  who, 
Has  clothed  me  already,  and  warm  enough  too ; 
Good-morning  !  oh  who  are  so  happy  as  ^\eV^ 
And  away  he  flew,  singing  his  chick-a-dee-dee. 

Wordsworth. 


THE    STOLEN    NEST. 

To- WHIT,  to-whit,  to-whee  !  w^ill  you  listen  to 

me? 
Who  stole  four  eggs  I  laid,  and  the  nice  nest 

I  made? 

Not  I !  said  the  cow,  moo-oo — such  a  thing  I 

never  do; 
I  gave  you  a  whisp  of  hay,  but  didn't  take 

your  nest  away, 
Not  I !  said  the  cow,  moo-oo — such  a  thing  I'd 

never  do ! 

To-whit,  to-whit,  to-whee!  will  you  listen  to 

me? 
AVho  stole  four  eggs  I  laid,  and  the  nice  nest 

I  made? 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  201 

Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-liiik^  now  what  do  you 
think — 

Who  stole  a  nest  away  from  the  plum  tree  to- 
day? 

Not  I !  said  the  dog,  bow-wow — I  wouldn't  be 

so  mean,  I  know; 
I  gave  hairs  the  nest  to  make,  but  the  nest  I 

did  not  take  ; 
Not  I !  said  the  dog,  bow-wow — I  wouldn't  be 

so  mean,  I  know ! 

Coo-coo,  coo-coo,  coo-coo!  let  me  speak  a 
word  or  two ; 

Who  stole  that  pretty  nest  from  little  yellow- 
breast  ? 

Not  I,  said   the  sheep ;    oh  no,   I    wouldn't 

treat  a  poor  bird  so? 
I  gave  wool  the  nest  to  line,  but  the  nest  is 

none  of  mine, 
Baa,  baa  !  said  the  sheep  ;   oh  no,  I  wouldn't 

treat  a  birdie  so. 

Caw,  caw !  said  the  crow — I  should  like  to  know 
What  thief  took  away  a  bird's  nest  to-day  ? 


202  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Cluck,  cluck !    said  the   hen,  don't   ask    me 

again  ; 
AVhy  I    haven't   a   chick  would  do   such   a 

trick ; 
AVe  all  gave  her  a  feather,  and  she  wove  them 

together : 
I  would  scorn  to  intrude  upon  her  and  her 

brood  ; 
Cluck,  cluck!    said  the  hen — don't  ask  me 

again ! 

Chirr-a-whirr,  chirr-a- whirr ! 
AVe  will  make  a  great  stir; 
Let  us  find  out  his  name,  and  all  cry,  "For 
shame  !'' 

To-whit,  to-whit,  to-whee !  will  you  listen  to 
me? 

AVho  stole  four  eggs  I  laid,  and  the  pretty 
nest  I  made? 

Bob-o'-link  bob-o'-llnk !  now  what  do  you 
think— 

AVlio  stole  a  nest  away  from  the  plum  tree  to- 
day ? 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  203 

Coo-coo,  coo-coo,  coo-coo  !  let  me  speak  a  word 
or  two ; 

Who  stole  that  pretty  nest  from  little  yellow- 
breast  ? 

Caw,  caw!  cried  the  crow — I  should  like  to 
know 

What  thief  took  away  a  bird's  nest  to-day  ? 

Chirr-a-whirr,  chirr-a-whirr  !  we  will  make  a 
great  stir; 

Let  us  find  out  his  name,  and  all  cry,  "  For 
shame !'' 

I  would  not  rob  a  bird,  said  little  Mary  Green ; 
I  think  I  never  heard  of  anything  so  mean  ! 
^Tis  very  cruel  too,  said  little  Alice  Neal ; 
I  wonder  if  he  knew  how  sad  the  bird  would 
feel  ? 

A  little  boy  hung  down  his  head, 
And  went  and  hid  behind  the  bed, 
For  he  stole  that  pretty  nest 
From  little  yellow-breast ; 
And  he  felt  so  full  of  shame 
He  did  not  like  to  tell  his  name. 

Little  Songs  for  LiTtlb  People. 


204  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

MY    LITTLE    SISTER. 

I  HAVE  a  little  sister;  she's  only  two  years  old, 
But  she  is   a  little  darling,   and  worth   her 

weight  in  gold, 
She  often  runs  to  kiss  me  when  I'm  at  work 

or  play, 
Twining  her  arms  around  me  in  such  a  pretty 

May. 

And  then  she  says  so  sweetly,  in  innocence 

and  joy, 
^^Tell  me  a  story,  sister,  about  a  little  boy.^' 
But  sometimes  when  I'm  knitting,  she  pulls 

my  needles  out. 
And  then  she  skips  and  dances  round  with 

such  a  merry  shout. 
It  makes  me  laugh  to  see  her,  though  I'm  not 

very  glad 
To  have  her  take  my  needles  out  and  make 

my  work  so  bad  ; 
But  I  know  if  I  would  have  her  be  sorry  for 

what  she's  done, 
I  must  be  very  gentle  when  I  tell  her  it  is 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  205 


MINUTES    AND    YEARS. 

Sixty  seconds  make  a  minute ! 
Sixty  minutes  make  an  hour ! 
Twenty-four  hours  make  a  day, 
Long  enough  for  sleep  and  play. 
In  every  month  the  weeks  are  four, 

And  twelve  whole  months  will  make  a  year ! 
And  when  you  are  four,  or  a  little  more, 

You  must  work  as  well  as  play,  my  dear. 


TUMBLE 

Tumble  up,  tumble  down,  never  mind  it,  my 
sweet ! 
No,  no  I  never  beat  the  poor  floor ; 
'Twas  your  fault  that  you  could  not  stand 
straight  on  your  feet ; 
Beat  yourself,  if  you  beat  any  more. 

Hush,  hush !  what  a  noise !    Will  a  noise  make 
it  well  ? 
Will  crying  wash  bruises  away? 

18 


206  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

Suppose  it  should  bleed  a  little  and  swell? 
It  will  all  be  gone  down  in  a  day. 

That's  right^  be  a  man  and  dry  up  your  tears; 

Come,  smile  now  and  give  me  a  kiss; 
If  you  live  in  the  world  but  a  very  few  years, 

You  will  have  greater  troubles  tlian  this. 

Jane  Taylor. 


WHAT    I     HATE. 

I  HATE  to  see  a  little  girl  who  does  not  love 

to  rise, 
Or  have  the  water  fresh  and  sweet  cover  her 

face  and  eyes ; 
I   hate  to  see  her  clean  smooth   dress  look 

w^rinkled,  tumbled,  tossed. 
Her  toys  all   scattered    liere  and    there,  her 

thread  and  needle  lost. 

I  hate  to  see  her  at  her  play,  when  little  girls 

arc  met 
To  frolic,  laugh  and  run  about,  grow  peevish, 

cry  and  fret ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  207 

I  hate  to  hear  her  tell  a  lie,  what  is  not  hers 

to  take, 
Mammals    commands  to   disobey,  or   papa's 

rales  to  break. 


WHAT    i     LOVE. 

I  love  to  see  a  little  girl  rise  with  the  lark  so 

bright, 
Bathe,  comb   and   dress  with  pleasant   face, 

then  thank  God  for  the  lighi^ ; 
And  when  she  comes  to  meet  mamma,  so  fresh 

and  neat  and  clean. 
To  kiss  her  and  her  dear  papa  with  gentle, 

modest  mien. 

I  like  to  see  her  kindly  play  when  little  girls 

are  met, 
And  let  the  others  have  their  way,  and  never 

sulk  or  fret ; 
And  never,  never  tell  a  lie,  and  nothing  ever 

take 
That  is  not  hers;  and  do  all  this  for  her  dear 

Saviour's  sake. 


208  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


BIRD'S   NEST. 

A  LITTLE  bird  built  a  warm  nest  in  a  tree, 
And  laid  some  blue  eggs  in  it — one,  two,  three; 
And  then  very  glad  and  delighted  was  she. 

And  after  a  while,  but  how  long  I  can't  tell. 
The  little  ones  crei)t  one  by  one  from  their 

shell. 
And  the  mother  was  pleased,  for  she  loved 

them  all  well. 

She  spread  her  soft  wings  o'er  them  all  the 

day  long. 
To  warm  them  and  guard  them,  her  love  was 

so  strong ; 
And  her  mate  sat  beside  her  and  sung  her  a 

song. 

One  day  the  young  birds  were  all  crying  for 

food  ; 
So  off  flew  their  mother,  away  from  her  brood, 
And  there  (^ame  some  boys  who  were  wicked 

and  rude. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  209 

They  pulled  the  warm  nest  down,  away  from 

the  tree ; 
The  little  ones  cried,  but  they  could  not  get 

free; 
So  at  last  they  all  died  away — one,  two,  three. 

When  back  to  the  nest  the  poor  mother  did 

Oh  then  she  set  up  a  most  piteous  cry ; 
And   she   mourned    a    long   while,   then   lay 
down  to  die. 

SOXGS  FOR  THE  LiTTLE  OxES  AT  HOME. 


THE    BATH. 

I  LOVE  the  good  splashing  and  plunging  and 
dashing ; 

Hurrah  !  the  cold  water  for  me  ! 
I  never  will  cry  nor  halloo;  no,  not  I : 

Unless  it^s  for  joy  and  for  glee; 
Hurrah  for  a  splash — come  give  me  a  dash; 

I  don't  care  a  fig  for  the  cold ; 
It  makes  me  so  bright,  so  active  and  light, 

It's  better  than  silver  and  gold. 

18* 


210  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


PUSSY-CAT. 

Pussy-cat  lives  in  the  servants'  hall, 
She  can  set  up  her  back  and  purr ; 

The  little  mice  live  in  a  crack  in  the  wall, 
But  they  hardly  dare  venture  to  stir ; 

For  whenever  they  think  of  taking  the  air, 

Or  filling  their  little  maws, 
The  pussy-cat  says,  Come  out  if  you  dare ; 

I  will  catch  you  all  with  my  claws. 

Scrabble,  scrabble,  scrabble,  went  all  the  little 
mice. 

For  they  smelt  the  Cheshire  cheese; 
The  pussy-cat  said,  It  smells  very  nice ; 

Now  do  come  out  if  you  please. 

Squeak,  said  the  little  mouse — squeak,  squeak, 
squeak, 

Said  all  the  little  ones  too ; 
We  never  creep  out  when  cats  are  about, 

Because  we're  afraid  of  you. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS,  211 

So  the  cunning  old  cat  lay  down  on  a  mat 
By  the  fire  in  the  servants'  hall ; 

"If  the  little  mice  peep,  they'll  think  I^m 
asleep  f 
So  she  rolled  herself  up  in  a  ball. 

Squeak,  said  the  little  mouse,  we'll  creep  out 

And  eat  some  Cheshire  cheese; 
That  silly  old  cat  is  asleep  on  a  mat, 

And  we  may  sup  at  our  ease. 

Nibble,  nibble,  nibble,  went  the  little  mice, 
And  they  licked  their  little  paws ; 

Then  the  cunning  old  cat  s^^rang  up  from  the 
mat, 
And  caught  them  all  with  her  claws. 

Aunt  Effie. 

THE   GRAY    SWAN. 

"Oh  tell  me,  sailor,  tell  me  true — 
Is  my  little  lad,  my  Elihu, 

A  sailing  with  your  ship?" 
The  sailor's  eyes  were  dim  with  dew — 
"Your  little  lad,  your  Elihu?'' 


212  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

He  said  with  trembling  lip  ; 

''  What  little  lad?— What  ship? 

^^  What  little  lad  ?  as  if  there  could  be 
Another  such  a  one  as  he; 

What  little  lad,  do  you  say? 
Why  Elihu,  that  took  to  the  sea 
The  moment  I  put  him  off  my  knee; 

It  was  just  the  other  day 

The  ^  Gray  Swau'  sailed  away/' 

^'  The  other  day  !" — the  sailor's  eyes 
Stood  open  with  a  great  surprise. 

"  The  other  day  !— the  Swan  !'' 
His  heart  began  in  his  throat  to  rise; 
"  Ay,  ay,  sir;  here  in  the  cupboard  lies 

The  jacket  he  had  on!'' 

^^  And  so  your  lad  is  gone?" 

'^  Gone  with  the  Swan  ?"  "  And  did  she  stand 
With  her  anchor  clutching  hold  of  the  sand 

For  a  month,  and  never  stir?" 
^'  Why  to  be  sure;  I've  seen  from  the  land, 
liike  a  lover  kissing  his  lady's  hand, 

The  wild  sea  kissing  her  ! — 

A  sight  to  remember,  sir !" 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  213 

^'  But,  my  good  mother,  do  you  know 
All  this  was  twenty  years  ago  ? — 

I  stood  on  the  Gray  Swan's  d.eck, 
And  to  that  lad  I  saw  you  throw 
Taking  it  ofF,  as  it  might  be  so, 

The  kerchief  from  your  neck/^ 

^'  Ay,  and  he'll  bring  it  back.'^ 

^^  And  did  the  little  lawless  lad 

That  has  made  you  sick  and  made  you  sad, 
Sail  with  the  Gray  Swan's  crew  f^ 

'^  Lawless  ! — the  man  is  going  mad, 

The  best  boy  ever  mother  had  ; 
Be  sure,  he  sailed  with  the  crew^ — 
What  would  you  have  him  do  ?'^ 


^^  And  he  has  never  written  a  line. 
Nor  sent  you  word  nor  made  you  sign 

To  say  he  was  alive  ?'^ 
''  Hold  !  if  ^twas  wrong,  the  wrong  is  mine ; 
Besides,  he  may  be  in  the  brine  ! 

And  could  he  write  from  the  grave? 

Tut,  man !  what  would  you  have?" 


214  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

'^  Gone  twenty  years — a  long,  long  cruise — 
'Twas  wicked  thus  your  love  to  abuse  ! 

But  if  the  lad  still  live 
And  come  back  home,  think  you  you  can 
Forgive  him  T^ — ^^  Miserable  man  ! 

You're  mad  as  the  sea  I  you  rave  ! 

What  have  I  to  forgive !'' 

The  sailor  twitched  his  shirt  so  blue, 
And  from  within  his  bosom  drew 

The  kerchief — she  was  wild. 
"O  God,  my  Father,  is  it  true, 
My  little  lad!  my  Elihu ! 

My  blessed  boy  !  my  child ! 

My  dead — my  living  child  ?'^ 

Alice  Carey. 


WE    ARE    SEVEN! 

I  MET  a  little  cottage  girl ; 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said  ; 
Her  Iiair  was  thick  with  many  a  curl 

Tliat  clustered  around  her  head, 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  215 

"  Sisters  and  brothers,  little  maid, 

How  many  may  you  be  ?'' 
^^  How  many  ?    Seven  in  all/'  she  said, 

And  wondering  looked  at  me. 

^'  And  where  are  they  ?     I  pray  you  tell  I" 
She  answered,  ^^  Sev.en  are  we. 
And  two  of  us  in  Conway  dwell, 
And  two  are  gone  to  sea. 

"  Two  of  us  in  the  churchyard  lie, 
My  sister  and  my  brother. 
And  in  the  churchyard  cottage  I 
Dwell  near  them  with  my  mother.'^ 

"  You  say  that  two  at  Conway  dwell, 
•And  two  are  gone  to  sea. 
Yet  you  are  seven !    I  pray  you  tell 
Sweet  maid,  how  this  may  be  ?'' 

Then  did  the  little  maid  reply, 
"  Seven  boys  and  girls  are  we  ; 

Two  of  us  in  the  churchyard  lie 
Beneath  the  churchyard  tree  !'' 


216  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

^^  You  run  about,  my  little  maid, 
Your  limbs,  they  are  alive ; 
If  two  are  in  the  churchyard  laid, 
Then  ye  are  only  five  V^ 

^^  Their  graves  are  green;  they  may  be  seen," 
Tlie  little  maid  replied, 
^^ Twelve  steps  or  more  from  mother's  door. 
And  they  are  side  by  side. 

^^  My  stockings  there,  T  often  knit. 
My  kerchief  there  I  hem, 
And  there  upon  the  ground  I  sit — 
I  sit  and  sing  to  them. 

"  And  often  after  sunset,  sir. 
When  it  is  light  and  fair, 
I  take  my  little  porringer 
And  eat  my  supper  there. 

^'  The  first  that  died  was  little  Jane ; 
In  bed  she  moaning  lay. 
Till  God  released  her  from  her  pain, 
And  then  she  went  away. 


"^^Mi, 


'  Master,  we  are  Seven  ! 


Golden  Songs. 


Page  21 'i 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  217 

^^So  in  the  churchyard  she  was  laid, 
And  when  the  grass  was  dry, 
Together  around  her  grave  we  played, 
My  brother  John  and  I. 

''  And  wdien  the  ground  was  white  with  snow^, 
And  I  could  run  and  slide, 
My  brother  John  was  forced  to  go, 
And  he  lies  by  her  side/^ 

^^  How  many  are  you  then,"  said  I, 
'^  If  those  two  are  in  heaven  ?" 
The  little  maiden  did  reply, 
"  Oh,  master,  v/e  are  seven  V^ 

^^  But  they  are  dead — those  two  are  dead ; 
Their  spirits  are  in  heaven  !" 
^Twas  throwing  words  away,  for  still 
The  little  maid  would  have  her  will, 
And  said,  *^  Nay,  we  are  seven  !" 

Wm.  Wordsworth. 
19 


218  GOLDEX   SOXGS. 


SEVEN    TIMES    ONE. 

There's  no  dew  left  on  the  daisies  and  clover, 

There's  no  rain  left  in  Iieaven  ; 
I've  said  my  *^  seven  times''  over  and  over — 

Seven  times  one  are  seven. 

I  am  old,  so  old  I  can  write  a  letter; 

My  birth-day  lessons  are  done ; 
The  lambs  play  always,  they  know  no  better; 

They  are  only  one  times  one. 

0  moon^  in  the  night  I've  seen  you  sailing, 
And  shining  so  round  and  low; 

You  were  bright,  ah  bright,  but  your  light  is 
failing; 
You  are  nothing  now  but  a  bow. 

You  moon  !  have  you  done  something  wrong 
in  heaven, 
That  (Jod  has  hidden  your  fiice?» 

1  hope  if  you  have,  you  will  be  forgiven, 
And  shine  again  in  your  place. 


GOLDEN    SONGS.  219 

O  velvet  bee,  you^^e  a  dusty  fellow ; 

You've  powdered  your  legs  with  gold  ; 
O  brave  marshmary  buds,  rich  and  yellow, 

Give  me  your  money  to  hokl. 

O  columbine,  open  your  folded  wrapper, 
Where  two  twin  turtle-doves  dwell ; 

0  cuckoo-pint,  toll  me  the  purple-clapper 
That  hangs  in  your  clear  green  bell. 

And  show  me  your  nest  w^ith  the  young  ones 
in  it; 
I  will  not  steal  them  away ; 

1  am  old,  you  may  trust  me,  linnet  I  linnet ! — 

I  am  seven  times  one  to-day. 

Jean  Ingelow. 


ETERNITY. 

How  long  sometimes  a  day  appears ! 

And  weeks,  how  long  are  they ! 
Months  move  as  slow  as  if  the  years 

Would  never  pass  away. 


220  GOLDEN    SONGS. 

Days,  months  and  years  must  have  an  end  ; 

Eternity  has  none ; 
^Twill  always  have  as  long  to  spend 

As  when  it  first  begun. 

Great  God !  although  we  cannot  tell 

How  such  a  thing  may  be, 
AVe  humbly  i)ray  that  we  may  dwell 


That  long,  long  time  with  thee. 


Jane  Taylor. 


LITTLE    BELL 

Piped  the  blackbird  on  the  beechw'Ood  spray, 
*^  Little  maid,  slow  w^andering  this  way, 

What's  your  name?"  said  he, 
"  What's   your  name  ?  oh  stop  and   straight 

unfold, 
Pretty  maid  w^ith  showery  curls  of  gold !" 

^a.ittle  Bell,"  said  Jhe. 

Little  I>(»11  sat  down  beneath  the  rocks, 
Tossed  aside  her  gloamy  gohlen  locks, 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  221 

"  Bonny  bird/^  said  she, 
"  Sing  me  your  best  song  before  I  go.'^ 
*^  Here's  the  very  finest  song  I  know, 

Little  Bell/'  said  he. 


And  the  blackbird  piped — you  never  heard 
Half  so  gay  a  song  from  any  bird 

'Neath  the  morning  skies ; 
In  the  little  childish  heart  below, 
All  its  sweetness  seemed  to  grow  and  grow, 
And  shine  forth  in  happy  overflow 

From  the  bright  blue  eyes. 

Down  the  dell  she  tripped,  and  through  the 

glade ; 
Peeped  the  squirrel  from  the  hazel-shade, 

And  from  out  the  tree 
Swung  and  leaped  and  frolicked  void  of  fear, 
While  the  blackbird  piped  so  all  could  hear : 

"  Little  Bel V  piped  he. 

Little  Bell  sat  down  amid  the  fern : 

^'  Squirrel,  squirrel,  to  your  task  return ; 

19* 


222  GOLDEN   SONGS.  '^'•' 

Bring  rae  nuts/'  quoth  she, 
Up,  away,  the  frisky  squirrel  hies — 
Golden  woodlights  glancing  in  his  eyes; 

And  adown  the  tree, 
Great  ripe  nuts,  kissed  brown  by  July  sun, 
In  the  little  lap  drop  one  by  one, 
Hark,  how  blackbird  pipes  to  see  the  fun  : 

*' Happy  Bell,''  pipes  he. 

liittle  Bell  looked  up  and  down  the  glade, 
*^  Squirrel,  squirrel,  from  the  nut  tree  shade, 
Bonny  blackbird,  if  you're  not  afraid, 

Come  and  share  with  me." 
Down  came  squirrel,  eager  for  his  share, 
Down  came  bonny  blackbird  :  I  declare 
Little  Bell  gave  each  his  honest  share ; 

Ah,  the  merry  three  I 

By  her  snow-white  cot,  at  close  of  day. 
Knelt  sweet  Bell,  with  folded  palms,  to  pray; 

Very  calm  and  clear 
Rose  the  praying  voice  to  where,  unseen 
In  blue  heaven,  an  angel  shape  serene 

Paused  a  while  to  hear. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  223 

*^  What  good  child  is  this/^  the  angel  said, 
"  That  with  happy  heart,  beside  her  bed, 

Prays  so  lovingly  V^ 
Low  and  soft,  oh  very  low  and  soft, 
Crooned  the  blackbird  in  the  orchard  croft: 

"  Bell,  dear  Bell  V'  crooned  he. 

^'  Whom  God\s  creatures  love/^  the  ano^el  fair 
Murmured,  '^  God  doth  bless  with  angels^  care, 

Child,  thy  bed  shall  be 
Folded  safe  from  harm — love  deep  and  kind 
Shall  watch  around  and  leave  good  gifts  be- 
hind, 

Little  Bell,  for  thee.'' 

T.  Westwood. 


CAT    AND    KITTEN. 

KiTTEX,  kitten !  two  months  old,  woolly  snow- 
ball lying  snug, 
Curled  up  in  the  warmest  fold  of  the  warm 
hearth-rug. 
Turn  your  drowsy  head  this  way, 
What  is  life,  O  kitten,  say? 


224  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

liife  !  said  the  kitten,  ^vinklng  lier  eyes, 
And  twitoliing  her  tail  in  a  droll  surprise ; 
Life !    Oh  it's  racing  over  the  floor, 
Out  at  the  window  and  in  at  the  door, 

Now  on  the  chair-back,  now  on  the  table^ 
^Mid  balls  of  cotton  and  skeins  of  silk. 
And  crumbs  of  sugar,  and  jugs  of  milk, 

All  so  easy  and  comfortable. 
It's  patting  a  little  dog's  ears,  and  leaping 
Round  him  and  over  him  while  he's  sleeping; 
AVaking  him  up  in  a  sore  affright. 
Then  off  and  away  like  a  flash  of  light, 
Scouring  and  scampering  out  of  sight. 
Life !    Oh  it's  rolling  over  and  over 
On  the  summer  turf  and  budding  clover; 
Chasing  the  shadows  as  fast  as  they  run 
Down  the  green  paths  in  the  summer  sun ; 
Prancing  and  gamboling  brave  and  bold. 
Climbing  the  tree-stems,  scratching  the  mould ; 
That's  life!  said  the  kitten,  two  months  old! 

Kitten,  kitten  !  come  sit  on  my  knee, 

And  listen,  kitty,  listen  to  me  I 

One  by  one — oh  one  by  one — 

The  shy,  swift  shadows  sweep  over  the  sun, 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  225 

Daylight  dieth,  and  kittenhood's  done ! 
And,  kitten  oh  the  rain  and  the  wind ! 
For  cathood  cometh,  with  careful  mind, 
And  grave  cat-duties  follow  behind  ; 
Hark!  there's  a  sound  you  cannot  hear: 
V\\    whisper    its    meaning    in    your    ear — 

Ilice! 
The  kitten  stared  with  her  great  green  eyes, 
And  twitched  her  tail  in  a  queer  surprise—- 

Mice  ! 
No  more  tit-bits  dainty  and  nice, 
Xo  more  mischief,  and  no  more  play. 
But  watching  by  night  and  sleeping  by  day ! 
Prowling  wherever  the  foe  doth  lurk  ; 
Very  short  commons  and  very  sharp  work. 
And,  kitten,  oh  the  hail  and  thunder; 
That's  a  blackish  cloud,  but  a  blacker  is  under. 
Hark  !  but  you^ll  fall  from  my  knee  I  fear, 
When  I  whisper  that  awful  word  in  your  ear — 

R-r-r-r-ats !  ! 
The  kitten's  heart  beat  with  great  pit-a-pats; 
But  her  whiskers  quivered,  and   from  their 

sheath  t> 

Flashed  out  the  sharp  white,  pearly  teeth! 


226  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

The  scorn  of  tlogs,  but  the  terror  of  cats, 
The  cruelest  foes,  and  the  fiercest  fighters, 
The  sauciest  thiev'cs,  and  the  sharpest  biters — 

R-r-r-r-ats  ! ! 
But,  kitten,  I  see  you've  a  stoutish  heart, 
So  courage  and  phiy  an  honest  part  ; 
Use  well  your  paws,  and  stretchout  your  claws, 
And  sharpen  your  teeth,  and  strengthen  your 

jaws ; 
Then  woe  to  the  tribe  of  pickers  and  stealers, 
Kibblers,  and  gnawers,  and  evil-dealers  ; 
But    now    that    you    know    that    life's    not 

precisely 
The  thing  your  fancy  ])ictured  so  nicely. 
Oft*  and  away,  race  over  the  floor, 
Out  at  the  window,  and  in  at  the  door; 
KoU  on  the  turf,  and  bask  in  the  sun, 
Ere  ni^rht-tinie  cometh  and  kittenhood's  done! 

THE    LITTLE    FISH. 
*^Di:aii  mother!"  said   a  little  llsh,  '^  ])ray  is 

not  that  a  fly  ? 
I'm  very  hungry  and  I  ('i'ish  you'd  let  me  go 

and  try  !" 


GOLDEN"   SOXGS.  227 

"Sweet    innocent!''    the    mother    cried,  and 

started  from  her  nook — 
'*  That  horrid  fly  is  put  to  hide  the  sharpness 

of  the  hook." 
Nov/,    as    I've    heard,    this    little   trout   wa^ 

young  and  foolisli  too, 
And  so  he  thought  he'd  venture  out  to  see  if 

it  were  true ; 
And  round  about  the  hook  he  played,  with 

many  a  longing  look. 
And,  "Dear  me!"  to  himself  he  said,  "I'm 

sure  that's  not  a  hook ; 
I  can  but  give  one  little  pluck ;  let's  see,  and. 

sol  will!" 
So  on  he  went,  and  lo !  it  stuck  quite  through 

his  little  gill ; 
And  as  he  faint  and  fainter  grew,  with  hol- 
low voice  he  cried, 
"Dear  mother,   had  I  minded  you,  I  need 

not  now^  have  died ! 


228  GOLDEN   SONGS. 


BETH    GELERT. 

The  spearman  heard  the  bugle  sound, 

And  cheerily  smiled  the  niorn, 
And  many  a  dog  and  many  a  hound 

Obeyed  Llewellyn's  horn ; 
Yet  still  he  blew  a  louder  blast, 

And  gave  a  lustier  cheer: 
^^  Come,  Gelert,  come !  thou'rt  never  last 

Llewellyn's  horn  to  hear/^ 

But  where  does  faithful  Gelert  roam, 

The  pride  of  all  his  race — 
So  true,  so  brave,  a  lamb  at  home, 

A  lion  in  the  chase  ? 
That  day  Llewellyn  little  loved 

The  chase  of  hart  or  hare, 
And  scant  and  small  the  booty  2)roved, 

For  Gelert  was  not  there. 

Unpleased,  Llewellyn  homeward  hied, 

When  near  his  portal  seat. 
His  truant  Gelert  he  espied. 

Bounding  his  lord  to  meet; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  229 

Bat  when  he  reached  the  castle  door, 

Aghast  the  chieftahi  stood ; 
The  hound  was  all  o'er-smeared  with  gore ; 

His  lips,  his  fangs  ran  blood. 

Onward  in  haste  Llewellyn  past, 

And  on  went  Gelert  too, 
And  still  where'er  his  eyes  he  cast, 

Fresh  blood-drops  shocked  his  view; 
He  called  his  child;  no  voice  re23lied; 

He  searched  in  terror  wild — 
Blood,  blood  he  found  on  every  side. 

But  nowhere  found  his  child. 

^*  Thou  hound  !  my  child's  by  thee  devoured  T' 

The  frantic  father  cried. 
And  to  the  hilt  his  vengeful  sword 

He  plunged  in  Gelert^s  side ; 
His  suppliant  looks  as  prone  he  fell 

No  pity  could  impart. 
Yet  still  his  Gelert's  dying  yell 

Passed  heavy  o'er  his  heart. 

Aroused  by.  Gelert's  dying  yell, 
Some  slumberer  wakened  nigh ; 

20 


230  GOLDEN   SOXGS. 

What  joy  the  parent's  heart  could  tell 

To  hear  his  infant  cry  ? 
No  wound  had  he,  nor  harm  nor  dread, 

But  the  same  couch  beneath 
Lay  a  gaunt  wolf,  all  torn  and  dead, 

Tremendous  still  in  death. 

And  what  was  then  Llewellyn's  pain! 

For  now  the  truth  was  clear; 
The  gallant  hound  tlie  wolf  had  slain 

To  save  Llewellyn's  heir. 
Vain,  vain  v/as  all  Llewellyn's  woe: 

^'  Best  of  thy  kind,  adieu  ! 
The  frantic  blow  that  laid  thee  low 

This  heart  shall  ever  rue." 

And  now  a  gallant  tomb  they  raise, 

With  costly  sculpture  decked, 
And  marbles  storied  to  his  praise 

Brave  Gelert's  bones  protect. 
There  never  yet  could  spearman  pass 

Or  forester  unmoved  ; 

And  there  the  tear  besprinkled  grass 

Llewellyn's  sorrow  proved. 

Old  Ballad. 


GOLDEX   SONGS.  231 


THE    MILK-WHITE    DOVE. 

Will  you  have  a  story,  darling  ? 

I  know  one,  very  old  ; 
For  when  I  was  a  little  child 

I  used  to  hear  it  told. 
It  is  about  a  little  boy, 

And  the  pigeons  which  he  sold. 

His  mother  she  was  very  poor. 
And  kept  a  rich  man\s  gate ; 

Until  the  carriages  passed  through, 
There  Jacob  had  to  wait. 

Kow  Jacob  was  a  patient  lad, 

A  loving,  faithful  son : 
Of  all  the  things  the  rich  man  had, 

He  wanted  only  one. 

A  pigeon  with  a  crested  head, 
And  feathers  soft  as  silk. 

With  crimson  feet  and  crimson  bill. 
The  rest  as  white  as  milk. 


232  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

He  had  some  pigeons  of  his  own ; 

He  loved  them  very  well ; 
But  then  his  mother  was  so  poor 

He  reared  them  all  to  sell. 

He  kept  them  in  a  little  shed 
That  sloped  down  from  the  roof: 

Great  trouble  had  he  every  spring 
To  make  it  waterproof. 

He  used  to  count  them  every  day, 

To  see  he  had  them  all ; 
They  knew  his  footstep  when  he  came, 

And  answered  to  his  call. 

And  one — a  chocolate-colored  hen — 
Was  prettier  than  the  rest, 

Because  there  was  a  gloss  like  gold 
All  round  its  throat  and  breast. 

You  know  the  little  birds  in  spring 
Jiuild  houses,  where  they  dwell, 

And  feed  and  rear  tlieir  little  ones, 
And  love  each  other  well. 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  233 

So  the  black  pigeons  Jacob  had 

Were  mated  with  the  gray ; 
And  crested-crown  and  ring-neck  made 

Their  nest  the  first  of  May. 

For  God  hath  made  each  little  bird 

To  love  and  need  a  mate ; 
And  so  the  little  chocolate  hen 

Was  very  desolate. 

And  Jacob  thought  if  he  could  get 
The  rich  man's  milk-white  dove, 

And  keep  it  always  for  his  own — 
Now,  listen  to  me,  love  : 

He  wanted  that  which  was  not  his, 

That  which  another  had ; 
And  so  a  great  temptation  grew 

Around  the  little  lad. 

The  rich  man  had  w^hole  flocks  of  birds, 
And  Jacob  reasoned  so  : 
'^  If  I  should  take  this  one  white  dove. 
How  can  he  ever  know  ? 

20* 


234  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

"Among  so  many  can  he  miss 
The  one  whicli  I  shall  take  ? 
Among  so  many,  many  birds, 
AVhat  difference  can  it  make  ?'^ 

But,  darling,  even  while  his  heart 
Throbbed  with  these  wishes  strong — 

And  something  always  troubled  him — 
He  knew  that  it  was  wrong. 

So  time  passed  on  ;  he  watched  the  dove, 

Plow  every  day  it  came 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  shed, 

More  gentle  and  more  tame. 

He  watched  it  with  a  longing  eye  : 

At  last,  one  summer  day. 
He  saw  it  settle  on  the  roof 

As  if  it  meant  to  stay. 

Now  Jacob  seemed  a  happy  boy : 

Said  he,  "  It  has  a  right 
To  choose  a  dwelling  anywhere 

Most  pleasant  in  its  sight." 


GOLDEX   SOXGS.  235 

And  so  he  scattered  grains  of  corn 
And  crumbs  of  wheaten  bread, 

Because  he  thought  the  dove  would  stay 
Where  it  was  kindly  fed. 

Well,  time  passed  on — the  milk-white  dove, 
Well  pleased  with  Jacob's  care, 

Soon  learned  to  know  him  like  the  rest, 
And  seemed  right  happy  there. 

One  morning  he  had  called  them  all 

Around  him  to  be  fed. 
And  on  the  ground  he  scattered  corn, 

And  peas,  and  crumbs  of  bread. 

When  all  at  once  he  heard  a  man 

Outside  the  road-gate  call : 
^^  Boy,  if  these  pigeons  are  for  sale, 

I  think  I'll  take  them  all.'' 

All !  how  it  smote  on  Jacob's  ear  ! 

^'  I  see  there  are  but  eight : 
If  you  will  take  eight  shillings  down, 

I'll  pay  you  at  that  rate." 


236  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

Js'ow,  at  that  moment,  all  the  birds 

Were  feeding  in  the  sun, 
But  Jacob,  in  his  startled  heart, 

Could  think  of  only  one. 

And  never  since  the  milk-white  dove 
Had  joined  the  chocolate  hen, 

Had  he  felt  in  his  inmost  heart 
As-  he  was  feeling  then. 

*^  Come — hurry,  hurry  V  said  the  man  ; 
*^  I  have  no  time  to  lose; 
Between  the  shillings  and  the  birds 
It  can't  be  hard  to  choose.'' 

Poor  Jacob,  having  once  begun 
To  do  what  was  not  right. 

Forgetting  he  was  standing  in 
His  heavenly  Father's  sight, 

And  knowing  how  his  mother  had 

A  quarter's  rent  to  pay. 
Felt  in  his  heart  the  sense  of  right 

Was  fading  fast  away ; 


GOLDEN   SONGS.  237 

When  from  the  open  cottage-door 
There  came  a  murmuring  low : 

It  was  his  mother's  morning  hymn, 
Solemn,  and  sweet,  and  slow. 

He  listened,  and  a  holy  fear 

AVas  wakened  in  his  heart, 
And  strength  was  given  him  that  hour 

To  choose  the  better  part. 

And  turning  to  the  stranger  man 

A  frank,  untroubled  eye, 
He  said  :  "  But  seven  birds  are  mine  ; 

But  seven  you  can  buy.^' 

^^  Oh  !''  said  the  man,  ^^  they  go  in  pairs, 
And  will  not  suit  me,  then  f^ 
So  Jacob  sold  him  only  six. 
And  kept  the  chocolate  hen. 

And  when  the  evening  shadows  came 

And  dew  was  on  tlie  grass. 
He  watched  outside  the  garden-gate 

To  see  the  rich  man  pass. 


238  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

And  in  his  hand  the  milk-white  dove 

He  held  with  gentle  care ; 
And  many  a  soft  caress  he  laid 

Upon  its  feathers  fair. 

And  when  at  last  the  rich  man  came, 
Poor  Jacob,  rendered  bold 

By  feeling  he  was  in  the  right, 
His  artless  story  told. 

And  after  he  had  owned  to  all 
The  wrong  which  he  had  done, 

And  the  w^orst  wrong  he  wished  to  do, 
He  lifted  to  the  sun 

A  happy,  open,  fearless  face, 

Which  won  the  rich  man's  love; 

And  so  he  bade  him  always  keep 
For  his  the  milk-white  dove. 

And  Jacob,  once  more  good  and  true. 
Stood  in  his  mother's  sight. 

The  struggle  of  temptation  past. 
The  wrono;  all  turned  to  right. 


GOLDEN   SOXGS.  239 

And  Jacob,  with  a  heart  at  rest, 

Lay  down  upon  his  bed ; 
And  whiter  wings  than  his  white  dove's 

Were  round  his  pillow  spread. 


NOT    READY    FOR    SCHOOL 

Pray,  where  is  my  hat — it  is  taken  away, 
And  my  shoe-strings  are"  all  in  a  knot; 

I  can't  find  a  thing  where  it  should  be  to- 
day, 
Though  I\^e  hunted  in  every  spot. 

Do,  Racliel,  just  look  for  my  Atlas  up  stairs. 
My  ^sop  is  somewhere  there  too  ; 

And,  sister,  just  brush  dow^n  these  trouble- 
some hairs. 
And,  mother,  just  fasten  my  shoe. 

And,  sister,  beg  father  to  write  an  excuse. 
But  stop ;  he  will  only  say  "  No,'^ 

And  go  on  with  a  smile,  and  keep  reading 
the  news, 
While  everything  bothers  me  so. 


240  GOLDEN   SONGS. 

My  satchel  is  heavy  and  ready  to  fall ; 

This  old  pop-gun  is  breaking  my  map ; 
I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  pop-gun  or  ball, 

There's  no  playing  for  such  a  poor  chap. 

The  town-clock  will  strike  in  a  minute,  I  fear, 
Then  away  to  the  foot  I  must  sink ; 

There !   look  at  my  Carpenter  tumbled  down 
here, 
And  my  Worcester  covered  with  ink. 

I  wish  I'd  not  lingered  at  breakfast  the  last, 
Though  the  toast  and  the  butter  were  fine; 

I  think  that  our  Edward  must  eat  pretty  fast, 
To  be  off  when  I  haven't  done  mine. 

Now  Edward  and  Henry  protest  they  won't 
wait, 

And  beat  on  the  door  with  their  sticks ; 
I  suppose  they  wmII  say  I  was  dressing  too  late; 

To-morrow  I'll  be  up  at  six. 

Mrs.  Oilman. 


INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


PAGE 

A  Child's  Dream  of  Heaven 125 

A  Lost  Day 106 

An  English  Child  in  the  Days  of  ^yickliffe 77 

Anna's  Good  Resolutions 18 

Bessie  Bell 45 

Beth  Gelert 228 

Bird's  Nest 208 

Bob-o'-Link 187 

Busy  Bee 39 

Cat  and  Kitten 223 

Christ  and  the  Little  Ones 27 

Cradle  Hymn 35 

Cradle  Hymn 42 

Eternity 219 

Evening  Hymn 40 

Evening  Hymn 57 

Evening  Prayer 21 

Forgiving 16 

21  241 


242  INDEX    OF   SUBJECTS. 

PAGE 

God  Sees  Me 10 

Good-morning 192 

Good-night  and  Good-morning 52 

Katie's  Dream 66 

Let  it  PaF3 60 

Little  Bell 220 

Little  Bi'ssie 107 

Little  Deeds 50 

Little  Dick  Snappy 13 

Little  Mar}' 21 

Little  People 5 

Little  Th-ngs 34 

Little  Willie  and  the  Apple 104 

Mary  Dow 178 

Minutes  and  Years 205 

Morning  Hymn 20 

Mother's  Last  Words 128 

Mrs.  Lofty  and  1 59 

My  Little  Lammie 175 

My  Little  Sifter 204 

My  Mother 28 

Not  Ready  for  School 239 

On  the  Lord's  Side 22 

Our  Baby 47 


INDEX   OF   SUBJECTS.  243 

PAGE 

Our  Father 36 

"  Paddle  your  own  Canoe" 12 

"Patchie" 64 

Poor  Mamma 190 

Popping  Corn 19 

Pride  and  Humility 56 

Pussy-Cat 210 

Ready  for  Duty 122 

Ringing  the  Bell 119 

Robin  Redbreast 23 

Robins 58 

Seven  Times  One 218 

Shadows 62 

Speak  Gently 54 

The  Baby 41 

The  Bath 209 

The  Blackberry-Girl 97 

The  Blessing  of  Labor 53 

The  Blind  Boy 114 

The  Boy  and  the  Flowers 26 

The  Boy  who  Never  tells  a  Lie 182 

The  Childhood  of  Jesus 118 

The  Children's  Hymn 31 

The  Child's  First  Grief 55 


244  IXDEX    OF    SUBJECTS. 

PAGE 

The  Commandments 31 

The  Drummer-Boy's  Burial 183 

The  Father  of  the  Fatherless 101 

The  Grain  of  Corn  and  the  Penny ;  49 

The  Gray  Swan 211 

The  Heavenly  Father 116 

The  Little  Angel 121 

The  Little  Doves 173 

The  Little  Fish 226 

The  Little  Match-Girl 89 

The  Lost  Child S5 

The  Love  of  Christ 33 

The  Milk-white  Dove 231 

The  Patter  of  Little  Feet 7 

The  Snow-Bird 198 

The  Spider  and  the  Fly 194 

The  Squirrel 180 

The  Stolen  Nest 200 

The  Strange  Child's  Christmas ' 110 

The  Sweet  Story 32 

The  Tempest  at  Sea 84 

The  Two  Pennies 37 

The  Wood-Mouse 74 

To-day  and  To-morrow 43 

Touch  Not,  Taste  Not 57 

Treasure  on  Earth  and  Treasure  in  Heaven 11 

Tumble 205 

Twinkle,  LittUi  Star , 38 

Two  Little  Robins 48 


IXDEX    OF    SUBJECTS.  245 

PAGE 

Vesper 40 

We  are  Seven., 214 

What  I  Hate 206 

What  I  Love 207 

Who  shall  Stand  in  the  Holy  Place  ? 169 

Wonderful  Xight  ! 24 

Work  and  Play 44 

21* 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES. 


PAGE 

A  DEAR  little  girl  sat  under  a  tree 52 

A  dreary  place  would  be  this  earth 5 

A  grain  of  corn  an  infant's  hand 49 

A  little  bird  built  a  warm  nest  in  a  tree 208 

A  little  child,  she  read  a  book  beside  an  ojDen  door 77 

All  day  long  the  storm  of  battle 183 

Alone,  beneath  the  heavy  shade 85 

A  missionary  far  away 119 

Another  little  wave  upon  the  sea  of  life 41 

A  penny  I  have,  it  is  all  my  own 37 

As  I  walked  over  the  hills  one  day 175 

A  squirrel  sat  on  the  topmost  limb 180 

A  very  pretty  sight  this  morning  I  did  see 58 

Before  the  bright  sun  rises  over  the  hill 21 

Ben  Adaui  had  a  golden  coin  one  day 11 

Be  not  swift  to  take  offence — let  it  pass  ! 60 

Call  that  day  lost  whose  setting  sun 106 

Come  here,  little  Robin,  and  don't  be  afraid 23 

Come  in,  little  stranger,  I  said 178 

247 


248  INDEX    OF    FIRST    LINES, 

PAGE 

Daflfy-down-dilly  came  up  in  the  cold 122 

Dearest  Father!  dwelling  high 36 

Dearest  mother,  get  my  bonnet,  do! 190 

Dear  mother,  I  dreamed  about  heaven 125 

*'  Dear  mother  !"  said  a  little  fish,  '•  pray  is  not  that  a 

fly?" 226 

Dear  mother,  why  do  all  the  girls 45 

Do  you  know  the  little  wood-mouse? 72 

God's  trumpet  wakes  the  slumbering  world 22 

Glory  to  thee,  my  God,  this  night 40 

High  on  the  top  of  an  old  pine  tree 173 

How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 39 

How  long  sometimes  a  day  appears  ! 219 

How  proud  we  are,  how  fond  of  show! 66 

Hug  me  closer,  closer,  mother 107 

Hush,  my  dear;   lie  still  and  slumber 35 

I  hate  to  sec  a  little  girl  who  docs  not  love  to  rise 206 

I  have  a  little  sister;  she's  only  two  years  old 204 

I  knew  a  widow  very  poor 101 

I  love  the  good  splashing  and  plunging  and  dashing....  209 

I  love  to  sec  a  little  girl  rise  with  the  lark  so  bright 207 

I  met  a  little  cottage  girl 214 

In  the  green  fields  of  Palestine 118 

I  think,  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old 32 

It  was  a  blessed  summer's  day 114 

It  was  a  warm  and  sultry  afternoon 66 


INDEX   OF    FIRST   LINES.  249 

PAGK 

Jesus  loves  me — this  I  know 33 

Jesus,  tender  Shepherd,  hear  me o7 

Kitten,  kitten  !  two  months  old,  woolly  snowball  Iviug 

snu^ 223 


Labor  gives  rest  from  the  sorrows  that  greet  us o3 

Little  Dick  Snappy  was  always  unhappy 13 

Little  drops  of  water,  little  grains  of  sand 34 

Little  Willie  stood  under  an  apple  tree  old IC-i 

Little  Gretchen,  little  Gretchen 89 

Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  weed 187 

Mrs.  Lofty  keeps  a  carriage — so  do  1 57 

Not  mighty  deeds  make  up  the  sum  of  happiness  below.  50 

Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep 21 

Oh  call  my  brother  back  to  me 55 

^'  Oh  I  am  so  happy!"  a  little  girl  said 192 

Oh  tell  me,  sailor,  tell  me  true 211 

Oh  who  before  the  righteous  God 169 

Once  there  was  a  little  boy 182 

One  autumn  night,  when  the  wind  was  high.... 19 

Piped  the  blackbird  on  the  beechwood  spray 220 

Pray,  where  is  my  hat — it  is  taken  away 239 

Pussy-cat  lives  in  the  servants'  hall 210 

Right  into  our  house  one  day .,..  121 


250  INDEX    OF    FIRST    LINES. 

PAGE 

Sing  to  the  Lord  the  children's  hymn 31 

Sixty  second-  make  one  minute 205 

Speak  gent  I}':  it  is  better  far 54 

Sweet  baby,  sleep?  what  ails  my  dear? 42 

The  bell  had  rung,  the  school  was  out 64 

The  candles  are  lighted,  the  fire  blazes  bright 62 

The  ground  was  all  covered  with  snow  one  day 198 

*^  The  ^Master  has  come  over  Jordan" 72 

The  morning  bright  with  rosy  light 20 

There's  no  dew  left  on  the  daisies  and  clover 218 

There  went  a  stranger  child , 110 

The  spearman  heard  the  bugle  sound 228 

The  yellow  fog  lay  thick  and  dim 128 

This  is  the  ju.st  and  great  command 31 

Thou  that  rulest  earth  and  heaven 40 

Through  all  the  busy  daylight,  through   all   the  quiet 

night 10 

To-day  !  a  lisping  child,  with  hair  all  golden 43 

To-day  we  cut  the  fragrant  sod  with  trembling  hands 

asunder 47 

Touch  not  the  tempting  cup,  my  boy,  though  urged   by 

friend  or  foe 57 

To-whit,  to-whit,  to-whee  !  will  you  listen  to  me? 200 

Tumble  up,  tumble  down,  never  mind  it,  my  sweet ! 205 

Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  star 38 

Two  K()))in  lU'dbreasts  built  their  nest 48 

Up  this  world  and  down  this  world 12 

Up  with  the  sun  in  the  morning 7 


I^'DEX    OF    FIPvST    LIXES.  251 

PAGE 

Well,  now  I'll  sit  down  and  I'll  work  rery  fast IS 

We  were  crowded  in  the  cabin ,. 84 

When  thou  art  kneeling  down  at  night.... .., 16 

Who  fed  me  from  her  gentle  breast 28 

Why,  Phcebe.  are  tou  come  so  soon  ? 95 

Willie,  with  a  spirit  light,  was  a  happy  little  child 26 

Will  you  have  a  story,  darling  ? 231 

**  Will  you  walk  into  my  parlor  ?"    said    the  spider  to 

the  fly 194 

Within  a  town  of  Holland  once 116 

Wonderful  night 24 

Work  while  you  work,  play  while  you  play 44 


